


Bad Reputation

by sociallyawkward_fics



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (Very brief), (of an OC character), Abusive Family, Abusive Parents, Abusive Siblings, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Another Cinderella Story AU, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Artist!Virgil, Bullying, Cinderella Elements, Depression, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insomnia, Jock!Roman, M/M, Masquerade, Minor Violence, References to Depression, References to past death, Sexual Harassment, Texting, cursing, doodling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociallyawkward_fics/pseuds/sociallyawkward_fics
Summary: Virgil has some issues opening up. With his parents gone and him getting stuck with his awful stepfamily, it’s kind of a given. The only person he’s able to let his guard down around is his friend Logan, who’s developed some trust issues of his own.Then, his entire world changed, all thanks to a note telling him to stop bestowing the classes after him with his art on the desk. Keeping up with his image, he continues to draw on the desk, but he never expected the person leaving him notes to warm up to him. And he definitely didn’t expect to fall for the person on the other side.FIC FOR FANDERS BIG BANG 2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna state a couple things beforehand (chapter warnings at the end of this list whoops lol)
> 
> 1) Yes, we are a day late. We received permission to post a day late because of extenuating circumstances. Luna and I are regretful this happened, but we're just glad we're getting it up.
> 
> 2) The character in this fic called Damien has NO relation to Deceit. I actually created him before Deceit was even revealed to us lol. I tend to find Deceit triggering, so I'll probably not write him into fics.
> 
> 3) I'm gonna say it before you even start the fic. I am not proud of the last chapter. Because of unfortunate circumstances, the last chapter is short, not very detailed or well written, and actually only marks the halfway point of how I'd originally planned the fic, but because of life I had to chop it in half. There WILL be a sequel.
> 
> 4) Luna and I REALLY hope you enjoy this fic, and her art! We worked really hard and while there were some LARGE hiccups causing a bunch of issues, we're so glad we got to complete it for you! Please enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> -bullying (verbal and physical)  
> -anxiety  
> -insomnia  
> -unhealthy eating habits (but not an eating disorder)  
> -homophobia  
> -abusive parents/siblings  
> -anxiety

It all started with a note.

Virgil walked into his first period class, smirking (always a smirk, never a smile, can’t let them see that) at something Logan said, unintentionally hilarious as always, and found a scrap of paper taped to the seat of his chair. He ripped it off and unfolded it.

It read: _Whoever sits here before me: STOP DOODLING ON THE DESK!!!_

Virgil snorted quietly and turned to show it to Logan, but the ringing of the first bell stopped him. Kids started filing in, glancing at Virgil and Logan out of the corners of their eyes. It was still the first month of a new school year, people weren’t used to the fact that they were _always_ early.

After a couple of minutes, the tardy bell finally rang and Mrs. Beach stood.

“Class, take your seats,” she called, standing from her desk. “We’ve got a quiz today, though most of you will probably need the entire period to complete it. I’m told my quizzes are a bit long.” She laughed a little, but no one laughed with her.

She passed out the test (she called it a quiz, but it was a test. Three pages of equations? It’s a test) facedown on their tables, switching between two different stacks for different versions of the test. He saw the kid in front of him shudder.

“I hope you studied,” Mrs. Beach said, examining the class for a moment.

Virgil smirked. With Logan as his best (and only) friend, how would he not pass? Hell, he would finish within the first twenty minutes.

Mrs. Beach met eyes with both Logan and Virgil and smiled a little. She knew they would pass. She loved them. “You may begin.”

Virgil focused on the test, doing his best to block the classroom out. He snuck his right hand into his pocket to rub the smooth, purple stone that resided there. It helped him focus, alleviated some anxiety.

Mrs. Beach had given it to him with a soft smile after she’d looked over his assessment pretest (he would’ve bombed that had it not been for Logan, though, it didn’t really have a grade anyway. Just a test of their knowledge to let her know where to start), his hand so shaky that his test was nearly illegible.

It was smooth and purple, with a premade divot for his thumb. It almost seemed to be a gradient. He had turned it over in his hands a few time before looking up at her, confused.

“It’s a worry stone,” she had said quietly, so the stragglers leaving for their next class wouldn’t hear. “My daughter got one from her teacher to help with test anxiety. I bought a few to always have backups.”

He had tried to pass it back to her. “It’s cool.”

Mrs. Beach had just shaken her head. “It’s for you, Mr. Bes- excuse me, Mr. Bunker. I think it could help you. There’s no shame in needing a little help. And just remember to breathe.”

He had smiled at her, then, one of the few he let loose in company other than Logan. She had smiled back and sent him on his way.

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil caught Logan standing and turning in his test. Only minutes later, he finished and turned in his own, flashing Mrs. Beach a small, secret smile where the rest of the class couldn’t see.

Logan shot him a smirk when he walked past him to sit down. Virgil simply lifted an eyebrow at him. It’s not like it was a competition to see who could finish first (it totally was. _Don’t get cocky_ , that eyebrow said).

When Virgil got back to his desk, he began doodling a night sky in the corner of his desk. He reached into his pocket to grab his stone and his hand instead met the note from his chair. He hid an evil grin behind the sleeve of his jacket.

Whoever had written it had to be pretty pissed off. After all, he _did_ draw on the desk almost every class period. He _usually_ didn’t mean to. It just sort of… happened. One minute, he was rubbing his stone and taking notes. The next, he had doodled the most realistic elephant profile he had ever seen.

He took pictures of every single doodle. They were often better than the drawings in his sketchbook, which was infuriating. Some of those had taken _hours_ , why had a fifteen-minute doodle looked better?

But still, it was a wonder Mrs. Beach had never caught him. Or maybe she was too nice to say anything.

Still, the person would’ve had to go through some trouble to get the note to _him_ specifically. Since the desk was always clean by lunch (which Mrs. Beach so graciously granted he and Logan refuge from), it had to have been from the third period class.

But there was no way for them to leave the note in that specific spot after their class, it would have been found by someone else. And they couldn’t have left it after school, the janitor would’ve taken it.

The student had to have come in before class and somehow gotten there earlier than Virgil and Logan, _and_ they managed to completely miss them, too.

Who in the hell got to school earlier than _them_? (At least, when Virgil wasn’t working).

Well, whoever it was, who would Virgil be if he didn’t rile them up on _purpose_ now? He had a reputation to keep, after all.

So, with an evil grin still hiding behind his sleeve, Virgil expanded the night sky to take up the entirety of his desk. He carefully placed each constellation he knew, exactly where he knew it belonged. More perks of being best friends with Logan.

In the center of his desk, he deviated from the normal night sky. Chewing on his sleeve a little, Virgil created a constellation that spelled _MAKE ME_ rather obviously.

By the time the bell finally rang, Virgil was satisfied with his work. The night sky was almost completely accurate, aside from his little message. He ran his thumbnail next to where he’d drawn Sirius and resisted the urge to smile sadly.

Virgil hadn’t even realized that the bell had rung until Logan walked up to his desk with a raised eyebrow. Virgil quickly made certain Mrs. Beach wasn’t looking before snapping a picture with his cellphone. He then grabbed his backpack and made his way out of the room with Logan.

“That was an elaborate piece,” Logan remarked after they left the classroom, side-eyeing Virgil.

Virgil snorted (always a snort or scoff, never a laugh, can’t let them hear that) and started fishing in his pocket for the note. “Yup.” He said, popping the “p”. He passed the note to Logan.

Logan scanned it before passing it back. “So you are just trying to piss this person off, now?”

Virgil scoffed and stuffed the note back in his pocket, wrapping his hand around the stone and keeping it there. “It’s _me_ , Logan. What did you expect?”

Logan sighed and began slowing his pace as his next class approached. “I’m expecting you to try harder. Colleges aren’t going to like this reputation you’ve created for yourself, Virgil, and neither does the administration. Or the student body.”

“It’s not like they were too fond of you either before last year,” Virgil snarked. He was tempted to reach over and pull on Logan’s earlobe to make the closing holes on Logan’s ears more obvious. He didn’t of course. They had reputations to keep, after all.

Logan sighed, pulling them off to the side of the hallway near his class. “Which is precisely why I did it,” he said, pulling at his earlobe, a nervous habit, the only one that had persisted through his “purge of outward displays of emotion”. “You hate that title you’ve earned so much, why do you keep on feeding it?”

“Better to be the ‘school freak’ than another carbon-copy popular kid,” Virgil shrugged. “I don’t think the world could handle another Roman Prince. Plus, aside from most of the student bodies and teachers not realizing you’re the same person, what’s changed? The bullying certainly hasn’t. People still don’t like you, just colleges and faculty.”

Logan didn’t answer, he simply shook his head and began backing away towards his class. Virgil continued on to his own before he was late.

The rest of the school day was uneventful. The only thing keeping him awake through half his classes was the (hopefully) hilarious reaction his doodle was going to receive. He really hoped for another note (so long as the person didn’t find out it was him).

The joy that would give him tomorrow was the only thing able to convince him to go home.

Virgil sunk lower in his bus seat and made the daily promise to himself that he _would_ get out of there, wondering not for the first time how he would survive another day with Damien and the twins.

They treated him like a slave, meant to bow to their every whim. He cooked, he cleaned, he took their verbal and emotional abuse without complaint. He wasn’t their equal, he was the help. He wasn’t their stepfamily, he was their burden.

Logan hesitated at his side after they got off the bus. “Are you… _sure_ you don’t want to come over?” He asked for the fifth time, shifting uncomfortably.

Virgil smiled bitterly. “I was over yesterday. And the day before that. The longer I stay away, the worse they’ll be. We don’t want another incident like freshman year.”

Logan winced, and Virgil quickly scanned the area to make sure no one had seen the expression. Logan rolled his eyes at the habit.

Virgil nodded his goodbye and started to walk away, but Logan grabbed his arm. “You got a shift tonight?”

“Not tonight, no,” Virgil replied, subconsciously reaching into his pocket for his stone. “I do have one tomorrow morning, though. I won’t be taking the bus with you tomorrow.”

Logan’s eyes flashed with concern, but they both ignored it. “I’m hopping your fence tonight,” was all he said before turning to walk up his driveway.

Virgil smiled. “Make sure you’re quiet,” he called after Logan. “Damien can’t catch us again.”

Logan turned over his shoulder and nodded before walking inside his house to greet his parents. Virgil waved when his parents eyed him with worry, before turning and walking the few remaining blocks to his house.

Or, rather, _Damien’s_ house.

He trudged up the driveway, dragging his feet. The twins nearly ran him over speeding up the driveway, he jumped into the dirt just in time, nearly tripping.

Kameron got out of the car first, a perfect pout on her lips. “Sorry, Virgie,” she called. “I didn’t see you there, you’re practically invisible!”

“Ha!” Christian let out a single, loud laugh from inside the car. “She said you’re invisible! Get it? Because no one knows or likes you?”

Kameron rolled her eyes and stalked up to Virgil, hips swinging. “Be a dear, Virgie, and do my laundry? Oh, and Daddy wants sushi tonight.”

Virgil was frozen with anger for a few moments, helpless to defend himself as Kameron turned and strutted inside. He whipped around.

“I don’t even know how to _make_ sushi!”

“Not my problem,” Kameron said airly, shrugging as she directed Christian to grab her bags from the car with only her finger.

“And do you _really_ want _me_ handling your undergarments?” He tried.

Kameron stopped in the doorway, freezing her hands where they had been filing her nails (when had she even pulled that out? And from _where_?). She turned and walked toward him, murder in her eyes, heels clicking to echo that promise.

“You see, I _would_ care if it wasn’t _your_ gay little ass doing it.” She poked his nose with a blood red nail, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. “ _Actually_ , Daddy hasn’t heard about that yet, _has_ he?”

Virgil’s breath hitched, despite his efforts to stay impassive.

“I really do wonder _what_ would happen if he was to find out?” She dragged the nail down the side of his cheek and jaw, digging in just enough for it to be painful, yet leave no evidence. “Don’t you?”

“Fine,” Virgil ground out. “I’ll do the damn laundry.”

Christian approached them near the door, arms filled with shopping bags. “Kami, where do you want these?”

Kameron whirled on her brother. “I told you _never_ to call me that,” she hissed, and Christian took a step back.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

As she continued to chew him out, Virgil took the opportunity to escape, sneaking through the front door and up the stairs (though not before tossing his own backpack into the basement, he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving it in “their space” again).

Kameron’s hamper already sat outside her room, waiting for Virgil. Mocking him. She had been planning this all day, knowing he couldn’t refuse anything she asked. Her leverage was too good.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed it, taking it down to the basement with him. As he sorted colors, he pulled up YouTube on his phone and began searching for sushi making tutorials. Reds to his left, light colors in front of him, darks to the right, whites and undergarments behind him (he tried not to look at them, lest he start gagging), and whatever the _fuck_ a California roll was blaring in his ears.

Virgil sighed as he got through the fifth video as was still sorting. How much clothing could one person own? At the rate things were going, he might have to text Logan and cancel their plans for that night.

It was a shame, he had been looking forward to stargazing.

Three loads of laundry and a frantic rush to the grocery store later, Virgil stood in the kitchen staring down the sushi ingredients. He’d watched _so_ many tutorial videos, and yet he still had _no_ clue what he was doing. He flinched when the door flew open behind him.

Damien was home.

“Virgil,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing?”

“Kam-Kameron said you wanted sushi for dinner to-tonight?” Virgil replied, though it was more of a question.

Damien loomed over him. Virgil wasn’t short by any means, but Damien could certainly make him feel like he was. Virgil tried to shrink back, but the counter was in his way.

“I said I was going to _order_ sushi tonight.” He said. “Do you need your ears checked, boy?”

Kameron had played him yet again. She had never said that _he_ was making dinner, simply that Damien wanted sushi. And she knew he would make it, desperate to avoid Damien’s anger.

And she had tricked him into walking right into it.

“No sir,” Virgil choked out. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Damien hummed. “To your room, then.”

“But-” Virgil made an aborted motion toward the fridge.

Damien raised an eyebrow. “You think, that after _all_ the mistakes you’ve made so far this week, that you get dinner? I don’t think so, boy. It’ll be good for you anyway, you’ve been packing on the pounds recently.”

He hadn’t. If anything, Virgil had been _losing_ weight. From back to school stress, his new insanely busy schedule, Damien’s “punishments.” There was no way he looked even remotely healthy.

He didn’t dare talk back, though. He simply nodded and made his way back down to the basement, squeezing behind the dividers in the corner to get to his “room.”

Really, it was just a shitty mattress on a shitty wire bed frame, with a shitty, rotten wooden dresser next to it.

_At least you have a bed,_ Virgil thought, trying to be positive. _You could be sleeping on the mildew-covered concrete instead._ He shuddered at the thought.

He was shaken from his thoughts by his buzzing phone.

**Specs:** _Am I bringing you dinner tonight, then?_

Virgil smiled, tense shoulders finally relaxing.

**V:** _How’d you know?_

**Specs:** _Best friend’s intuition._

**Specs:** _Also, I saw your angry tweets about sushi making, but a sushi delivery truck just drove down the street toward your house._

**Specs:** _You don’t even like sushi._

**V:** _Leftovers would be great_

Virgil would always be eternally grateful for Logan’s family. They had a tendency to make way too much food, considering that there were only three people in the household, but Virgil had his suspicions. After all, the habit only started after his parents found out how Virgil’s stepfamily had been treating him.

Not only that, but Mrs. Boman fretted over him _constantly_ when he was over. Always offering food or for him to stay the night, asking if he needed anything. She was terrified of how thin he was. She never said it, but Virgil could tell.

Mr. Boman knew all of Virgil’s favorite foods. Either he had somehow memorized how Virgil responded when given a dish, or he “recorded his findings” similarly to how Logan would. Not only that, but he was always certain to make the most calorie filled and protein heavy dishes when Virgil was over.

Virgil didn’t deserve their kindness, they were far too good for him, but he definitely appreciated it.

Virgil tried to lose himself in his homework to ignore the growing gnawing in his stomach. Eventually, it worked, and both his mind and body had forgotten he was even hungry. The gnawing and growling stopped, and his focus on his work only increased.

Even though most days his only meal _was_ dinner, he was used to not being able to have it. Somewhere along the way over the years, he’d developed a useful defensive mechanism. As long as he focused on something else, he was able to forget he was even hungry. It worried Logan to no end.

Virgil knew it wasn’t healthy, but he had the rest of his life to be healthy. All that mattered right now was saving up to get the _hell_ away from Damien, whether it be through college or other means. If that meant he worked himself to the bone and didn’t buy other meals, then so be it.

He hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten until there was a sudden knocking on the basement window, right by the head of his bed. Virgil startled so hard that he threw his English book at the wall, whipping his head around. Logan’s face appeared in the window with a sheepish, yet still slightly smug, grin.

Virgil rolled his eyes and opened the window. “A little warning next time?” Virgil snarked, as if this didn’t happen every time.

Logan rolled his eyes, his grin becoming more natural. “I texted at _least_ six times, it’s not _my_ fault you can’t pick up the phone.”

Virgil chuckled a little, everything feeling a bit looser now that is was just him and Logan. They could be real, no reputations to hide under.

Using his bed to boost him up, Virgil wiggled himself through the small, rectangular window and onto the backyard lawn. Logan was eyeing him strangely when he stood back up.

“What?” Virgil asked, brow furrowed.

Logan shook his head. “I do not think a healthy person of your age and height should be able to fit through that window so easily.”

Virgil rolled his eyes again. “One, I’ve seen _Christian_ fit through it once on a dare, and he’s the Big Bad Football Jock. Two, you eat almost as little as I do. Three, drop the formal speech, it’s just us.”

Logan smirked at him, holding out a tupperware with a fork taped to the lid. “I don’t believe I ever claimed to be healthy.”

Virgil gave a little half laugh, half scoff as he took the tupperware and began walking across the yard toward the reclining deck chairs. “Man, we’re fucking messes, aren’t we?”

“Correction, we’re fucking messes that are going to get full rides to whatever colleges we so choose.”

Virgil didn’t respond, all his words leaving him as the popped open the tupperware and caught scent of Mr. Boman’s amazing cooking. Chicken with gravy, mashed potatoes, _and_ green shit? Damn, he really needed some vegetables.

“Shit,” Virgil said, flopping heavily into a deck chair and shoveling a forkful in his mouth. The second the food hit his stomach, his hunger returned full-force. “I’m gonna steal your dad,” he managed to get out around another mouthful of food.

Logan snorted, reclining his own chair a bit further to watch the sky. “Chew, you’ll make yourself sick. And only so long as I don’t get stuck with yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to snort. “Damien Beste is _not_ my father. He never has been and never will be.”

It was silent for a few minutes, Logan watching the stars slowly appear while Virgil tried (and failed) to pace the rate he was shoveling food into his mouth.

Eventually, Logan sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “ _God_ , I miss your mom.”

Virgil felt a pain in his chest, but offered a smirk to Logan instead. “Mom wouldn’t like you using God’s name in vain.”

Logan turned toward him and opened his eyes, giving him a knowing look. Virgil ignored him in favor of his dad’s cooking.

“Don’t think she’d be too keen on you saying ‘shit’ either.”

Virgil sputtered out a laugh, trying not to choke on his dinner (and failing, so instead he opted for keeping his choking quiet as to not wake Damien or the twins). He sobered quickly and cleared his throat, taking the water bottle Logan offered (where had he even pulled that from?).

“Probably wouldn’t dig the whole ‘gay’ thing, either, while we’re on the subject,” Virgil muttered.

Logan scoffed. “Alissia loved you, Virgil. Unconditionally. If she were still around, I promise you, she would not give a fuck that you’re gay.”

Virgil finally looked at Logan. “Yeah?”

Logan turned his head back to the stars. “Yeah.”

They fell silent again after that, staying that way for a while. Virgil finished his dinner and placed the tupperware on the pool deck under his chair. He mapped out the constellations with his eyes, trying to commit them to memory like he knew Logan already had.

“Hey,” Virgil finally said. “Is Sirius up?”

“Hmm…” Logan furrowed his brow and scanned the sky. “I think it set near the Sun. It’s still just after summer. I could be wrong, though.”

Virgil smiled sadly. “Unlikely.”

“You’re thinking of that stupid pun Alissia used to tell, aren’t you?”

Virgil could see Logan grinning in his peripheral.

“You mean the only pun you’ve ever laughed at?” Virgil shot back.

Logan chuckled, low and deep. He was getting tired, Virgil would have to send him home soon. “Hey, Virgil,” he said. “What’s the brightest star in the sky, do you know?”

Virgil chuckled. “Are you _Sirius_ ,” he asked, faking incredulity.

Logan broke into snorting giggles, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth in an attempt to muffle them. Virgil chuckled, more at Logan’s reaction than the actual joke. His friend truly was tired.

“You should know that, Logan! Come on!” He teased further, causing Logan’s laughter to pick up even more.

Logan clamped his other hand over his mouth, curling up in his chair a little bit. Virgil sighed. He really needed to laugh more.

“Damn, you are _so_ tired,” Virgil said, only getting more hysterical giggles in return. He laughed quietly. “You better get home soon before you can’t. I don’t want you passing out in my backyard again.”

It took a few more seconds, but Logan finally managed to get control of himself. He stood and took his tupperware when Virgil handed it to him before yanking Virgil into a hug. Virgil froze for a second, surprised, before melting into Logan and hugging back tightly.

“Don’t work yourself to death,” Logan mumbled in his ear.

Virgil smiled sadly. “No promises-”

Logan made a sound of disagreement.

“- _Unless_ you promise the same.”

Logan faked an annoyed sigh. “ _Fine_ , mom.”

Virgil allowed himself a grin, burrowing into the curve of Logan’s neck for a moment. “Go the fuck to sleep,” he said, only grinning wider when Logan shied away at the ticklish feeling of his breath on his neck. He pulled back slightly. “You don’t wanna be this loose at school tomorrow. We have reputations.”

“Fuck reputations,” Logan muttered, but pulled back anyway.

Virgil just shook his head. “You won’t be saying that tomorrow, Specs.”

Logan grinned at him as he jumped over the back wall.

And then Virgil was alone again.

Like usual.

Though it was late and he had to be up in only a few hours to get ready for work, Virgil didn’t feel like going to sleep just yet. It was a nice, clear night. Not too warm, not too cool. He wouldn’t mind staying out a bit later, sleep deprivation be damned.

He gazed up again at the stars he could see despite the light pollution of the city and smiled sadly. He looked down to watch their reflections ripple in the pool.

His mother _loved_ stargazing. It was why both he and Logan loved it so much, too. So much of their childhood was spent in one of their backyards, Mom laying next to them and pointing out the constellations. Virgil had never been great at remembering the names, but he tried so hard now that she was gone.

There was the Great Square that created Pegasus. There was Cassiopeia, chained for eternity.

Virgil dropped his head into his hands, sighing deeply. His eyes burned with impending tears, but he forced them down. He’d cried enough over her.

Though, he doubted he would ever stop.

Virgil sighed and turned his gaze to the sky once more. It was a cloudless night, and the stars were calling to him.

He very much regretted his decision in the morning, however, peeling his eyes open at 4:05 and cringing at his alarm. He groaned and rubbed his eyes before finally sitting up and shutting off his alarm.

He _really_ didn’t want to get up, but he couldn’t miss a shift, even if his boss was an angel on earth and would understand. He couldn’t do that to them.

But he hadn’t even crawled back through his window until one the night before, and he’d still had English homework to finish. He didn’t get to sleep until after two.

“Fuck me!” Virgil hissed out as his feet hit the cold cement of the basement floor. He _really_ needed to get a rug.

Ignoring his tired eyes, Virgil rushed through a quick shower as quietly as he could (he technically wasn’t supposed to be using the shower, but Damien slept the heaviest between three and five in the morning and wouldn’t know) and hid his toiletries back in his “room.”

He threw on one of his usual dark outfits, not paying attention to what he was wearing aside from making sure he had his hoodie. He was sure to grab his worry stone off his dresser and shove it in his pocket.

He hastily straightened his hair, making sure it covered his face and _didn’t_ curl, as much as it wanted to. He barely had time to apply a rough layer of foundation. It was fine, he could finish his makeup at work.

Virgil was out of the house just in time to catch his 4:30 bus. The ride was quiet, as it always was that early. The only other people there were overachieving businessmen and people doing the walk-of-shame. They all seemed to share his exhaustion.

Virgil walked into The Insomniac at 4:57 in the morning to his boss shouting, “ _Fuck!_ ” behind the counter after a loud crash. The only patrons there that early were far too used to these antics, and barely looked up from their books or coffee or laptops to see what happened.

“Maisey?” Virgil called, weaving between tables, careful not to bump any customers. He nodded at a few regulars as he walked to the counter.

The 25 year old bounced up from behind the counter and Virgil had to bite back a laugh. They already had a rather eccentric appearance, but the ground coffee coating their entire form only added to it.

“You, uh, you good?” Virgil asked, voice wobbling from repressed laughter.

Maisey tried to glare at him, but their giant, round glasses were covered in coffee grounds and they couldn’t see him.

“I, uh, think you got something in your hair,” he said, voice becoming more choked as he continued to stare. He cleared his throat. It didn’t help. “Brown’s a good color, maybe you should go for that next.”

Maisey smirked, taking off their glasses. “Too boring,” they said with a short laugh, looking for something to clean their glasses on.

Virgil took their glasses and cleaned them off the best he could on his jeans.

“But what color haven’t you tried yet that’s not boring?”

Maisey sighed, slipping their glasses back on and gathering their insanely long hair in one hand. “I dunno,” they said, rubbing the shaved half of their head with their free hand. “I need to go for a shave and trim soon, and get my roots bleached, so I gotta think of a color before then.”

Virgil stepped forward and brushed a clump of coffee grounds off their shoulder, biting back another laugh. They shoved him playfully.

“Oh, quit your laughing-”

“I wasn’t technically laughing.”

“-and man the counter while I clean up.” Maisey finished, trying to brush the brown dust of their neon cardigan.

Virgil slid over the counter in a practiced, fluid motion. “Yes-” a quick glance at Maisey’s apron (that he felt guilty for not taking sooner) to reveal a baby blue button “-sir.”

Unlike Virgil, Maisey opened the hatch of the counter and walked through, making his way to the employee room in the back. Virgil had to hide his grin behind his sleeve at the trail of brown dust that followed Maisey back.

Work was slow that morning, as it usually was that early. As much as he hated waking up so early, these shifts were Virgil’s favorite. Daytime shifts brought high school and college kids looking for a place to study, hang out, and eat. Often, it was popular kids and hipsters. At night, they got the drunks being kicked out of bars and looking for a pick-me-up, along with some lost looking kids that usually stayed all night.

Early mornings, though. Early mornings were the best. It was before rush hour, so no students or people rushing to work. Simply broken kids from broken homes and families, just like his. Kids looking for an escape or reprieve before a day of hell at school, and an even worse hell back home. Sure, those kids were the regulars and could be seen at almost any time, day or night, but early morning was the easiest time to see them.

Maisey had even come up with a system to help kids like those a few years back, after the first time he’d met Virgil. It was a secret code, a word or phrase, that changed on a weekly basis so that people who didn’t _need_ it wouldn’t take advantage of it. If the kids (or a homeless person. Really, anyone in need) told the employee at the counter the code, they could get a free pastry or sandwich that was too old be sold anymore.

The food wasn’t rotten, of course. It was perfectly good, probably only one to two days old, but it was a great alternative to having to throw them out and wasting the food that could help someone. Maisey found it much more fulfilling than seeing kids and other people digging through their dumpsters for leftovers.

After Maisey had cleaned himself up, the two of them flitted between working the counter, checking that all the books were sorted correctly, and bussing tables. Maisey had even let Virgil take a quick break to run to the employee room and finish his makeup before school.

It was a dance the two had perfected after working together for so long, neither of them liking to be still when there was work to be done. The counter was often empty this early, so working it could technically be considered a “break.” Not to mention, Virgil hated working it even when it _wasn’t_ empty.

Virgil had been reshelving some fantasy novels across the cafe when Maisey called out, “V-dog, counter!” The bell on the door rung at exactly the same moment.

“You got it, boss!” Virgil called back, trying not to sound as put-out as he felt. He had some bad luck, switching right when a customer came in.

He moved toward the counter as quickly as he could, wanting the interaction over with (and not wanting to keep the customer waiting, he didn’t recognize the back of that head as one of their patient regulars). Once again, he hopped and slid over the counter with ease, grabbing a rag that had been carelessly thrown on the counter and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Whaddya want?” Virgil asked impatiently, turning to face the customer and freezing.

Roman Prince’s perfect scowl greeted him. “Shouldn’t you be more polite to customers? And is it not unsanitary to slide over the counter like that?”

Virgil smirked, the persona he used at school so easily slipping into place. “Perks of working here? I can do what I want. You must be new here.”

Roman Prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously deciding he wasn’t worth it. Probably for the best. Maisey may not have minded if he was occasionally short with customers (even Maisey himself had his moments), but he probably wouldn’t appreciate it if Virgil got into an all-out argument with a customer. Again.

Roman Prince pulled out his phone and cleared his throat, putting his perfectly pleasant face back on. He began reading an order off of his phone but was interrupted by Maisey racing up to the counter.

“Virgil!” He practically shouted. “My gender changed in the bathroom! Hand me my pink button!”

Virgil reached under the counter and grabbed one of the many pastel pink buttons that resided there, tossing it over a confused Roman Prince’s head. Maisey shouted her thanks before rushing off again.

He hesitated before returning to his _customer_ , furrowing his brow. What was _up_ with Maisey today?

Virgil quickly wiped any expression from his face and turned back to Roman Prince. Just as he opened his mouth to start his order again, he was interrupted by Maisey practically crashing into the counter trying to get under the door in the counter.

“ _School!_ ” She shrieked, shoving him off to the side towards the employee room and turning to take Roman Prince’s order herself. “Grab your shit and go!”

Virgil grabbed his backpack from the small employee room, switching off the crappy TV as he went. Someone always accidentally left it on.

He came back into the main part of the shop, slipping under the counter to pour himself a large black coffee, waiting while Maisey finished taking Roman Prince’s order. He waited until she was starting to make a series of extremely complicated drinks to approach her.

“You good?” He asked quietly enough so that the patrons couldn’t hear. “You’re kind of… flittery. A bit jumpy, today?”

She hummed quietly. Not for the first time that morning, Virgil noticed the slight tremor in her hands.

“Maze,” he whispered, bumping his hip with hers. Really, due to the height difference, his hip was bumping against the bottom of her ribcage. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, sliding two smaller drinks across the counter towards Roman Prince and shooting him a smile. She went back to preparing more. “I just… I may or may not have dumped multiple energy drinks into a pot of coffee and drank the whole thing.” She refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil almost dropped his own coffee. “Mai! You shouldn’t even be _having_ caffeine!”

“Yeah?” She muttered. “Well, neither should you, and don’t think I didn’t see how many shots of espresso you put in that cup. Everyone thinks you’re edgy and just drink straight black coffee, but I know the truth.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and gave her a subtle quirk of the lips. “One, nothing about me is straight. Two, kind of ironic that we’d both end up working in a coffee shop.”

She grinned up at him. “Excuse me, _you_ work. I _own_.” She paused, turning her attention back to the drink she was making. “Or, well, Gramps owned, and then passed it to me.”

“And the kids of this city are eternally grateful for his tragic death.”

Maisey threw her head back and laughed as she slid two more drinks across the counter towards Roman Prince. “Fuck off,” she laughed, “he’s not even dead! And speaking of kids, get your ass to school, punk.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and slipped under the counter’s door. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He made sure his back was to everyone else in the building and shot her a grin before turning to make his way out.

“I want to see you at Harvard, young man! Or Stanford, Princeton… Something!” She called after him.

The regular patrons were unconcerned, focused completely on their books or laptops or coffee. A few waved at him as he went past or laughed at him and Maisey’s usual shenanigans.

Roman Prince, though, did not seem to enjoy their casual banter, practically glaring at all the noise. Virgil resisted the urge to walk back over and slap the expensive phone right out of his perfect hands.

“Don’t let Logan steal your thunder, you’re smart too!”

“No thunder to steal,” he called back, saluting as he left the shop. He walked out the door quickly, giving her no time to retort.

He winced once he was out of sight of the cafe’s windows. Had it been a normal day, he would’ve been fine with Maisey’s brand of encouragement. But in front of Roman Prince? With the crowds that dumbass ran in, who knew what rumors could start.

What would it be this week? How Virgil was shit at his job and should be fired? Some bullshit about a rivalry between him and Logan? How the school’s resident fuckup is secretly a nerd and they should all bully him _more_?

Virgil sighed. He would never understand _why_ Logan dropped what he called his “edgy” persona. All it had done was make him a bigger target. Virgil didn’t even think any of the students _recognized_ Logan once they came back from summer break to start their junior year, all traces of him having been punk vanished.

But Logan had grown up. He wanted to look good for colleges, even though they’d never technically gotten in trouble other than being dress-coded a few times (okay, Logan had a few “disruptions” under his belt, but for good reason!). He constantly told Virgil to do the same.

_Fuck that_ , Virgil thought. _I have a reputation._

Though, he supposed, Logan had, too. And now he had a different one.

But Virgil wasn’t like Logan. Looking scary was the best way to ensure that people messed with him less than they do to the other incredibly unpopular kids. Logan had gotten so much crap ever since he became the school nerd, and Virgil wasn’t strong enough to handle that.

Virgil’s entire mood brightened when he walked into Beach’s class and saw a note discreetly sticking out of the textbook under his desk. The wooden tabletop was, as usual, spotless.

Virgil grabbed the note while putting his backpack down before walking over to plop into the desk in front of Logan’s. Logan’s nose was so far stuck into his book that he almost didn’t notice.

“Virgil,” he greeted, voice even.

“Logan,” Virgil mimicked with a roll of his eyes.

“Boys,” Mrs. Beach’s voice cut through the silence that followed, “I need to run and grab something from the printer in the teacher’s lounge. I’m trusting the room to you.”

Logan nodded curtly without looking up. Virgil gave her a thumbs up as she rushed out of the classroom, probably trying to hurry so that she made it back before the bell.

Virgil stared at Logan until his eyes finally flicked up from his book. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Virgil smirked and held up the folded piece of paper between two fingers.

Logan sighed. “Is this from that person you’re trying to piss off?”

“I dunno,” Virgil said, though he was pretty certain. “Let’s find out.”

_Really?_ The note read. _We’re playing that game? Just you wait, I’ll find some way to get back at you._

Logan sighed again, heavier this time. “Virgil, Mrs. Beach loves you, just tell her it’s you.”

Virgil’s head whipped up. “What? Why?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the door for a moment, searching, before focusing back on Virgil and softening. “Because this person is probably getting blamed for the drawings and you’re going to push them past their breaking point eventually. What if they have an influence on the social structure of the school? If they find out who you are, you could get hurt.”

Alone in the classroom, Virgil allowed himself to soften as well. He gave Logan a gentle, reassuring smile. “Hey, isn’t it my job to worry about future worst-case scenarios?”

Logan rolled his eyes fondly and opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes snapped to the door and the warmth in his gaze vanished. His back went ramrod straight from where it had slouched over to bring his closer to Virgil, and he lifted his chin in a proud way.

Virgil himself quickly etched his dark and menacing scowl back onto his face and rearranged his limbs so his slouch looked more like carelessness than relaxation and exhaustion.

They had perfected putting up their facades in seconds, so they were well prepared when the door opened and another student their age poked their head in.

“Hey there!” They said, far too cheery for 7:30 in the morning. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was looking for Mrs. Beach?”

“Teacher’s lounge,” they said in unison.

The student -- Virgil thought his name was Peter? Parker? He ran with Roman Prince’s crowd, he knew that much, and he had a couple classes with Virgil -- beamed at them. “Thanks so much! Sorry again!”

“Patton Havard,” Logan said after the door had shut again, almost in wonder. “The most polite popular I’ve ever met.”

Virgil hummed in response. They sat in silence for a few moments. Then, “Did he have the same glasses as you?”

“God, I hope not.”

Virgil swallowed a laugh.

The school day passed slowly. After doodling a couple of bears doing yard work on the desk, Virgil had little to keep him focused in his classes for the rest of the day. He knew he would regret it later when Logan was forcing him to study, but he was so exhausted that he couldn’t find it in him to care. His coffee only went so far.

Logan was a walking encyclopedia, anyway, and loved offering to help. He felt like reteaching a subject could help him understand it better, as well.

The boring tone of the day changed completely when Virgil happened to find a fight after school. And it wasn’t a good change of tone, considering that Logan was the victim.

He had been walking out of the school gates and had turned to head toward the bus the stop where he was meant to meet Logan when he saw the ever-growing circle of students blocking the sidewalk.

They were all shouting and cheering and booing, and Virgil knew exactly what that meant. He probably would have inched around them had he not seen a familiar head of gelled hair bobbing around in the center of the circle.

Virgil took a quick glance behind him to confirm that, yet again, the school monitors and security were failing to do their jobs before taking a breath to steel himself.

He squared his shoulders and set his jaw in an attempt to appear more menacing and marched toward the crowd. They parted for him immediately. Being the school freak definitely had its perks.

He made his way to the center of the circle quickly, staying near the edge, people quickly closing in behind him. No gap to escape through, now. He looked forward and felt his blood boil.

Logan’s lip was bleeding, his glasses were broken on the cement, and Virgil could already see bruises forming.

He didn’t the guy who was beating Logan up, but he could tell he was a jock and recognized him from past bullying experiences that had ended with him or Logan bleeding in some fashion.

Despite Logan’s condition, he still stood tall. Still held his head high. Virgil had immense respect for him for that, and knew Logan would be upset at him if he stepped in.

But he couldn’t just let this go on. Especially because he _knew_ Logan refused to fight back, even in self-defense. He only ever threw punches for Virgil when Virgil couldn’t handle a fight on his own.

Virgil stepped further into the circle.

The jock laughed.

“Aw, look, Boman! Your emo fairy is coming to the rescue!” He jeered and the crowd laughed.

“If only someone was coming to yours.” Virgil ground out, beginning to advance on the bully, slipping his backpack off.

He may not have been strong, but he was fast and had the power of fight or flight on his side. A punch was aimed toward his stomach, a leg twitching in an anticipation. He recognized the advance, the move had been used on him countless times. He wouldn’t fall for it again.

Virgil slid out of the way of the fist and the jock lost his balance. Virgil turned his own move against him before he could recover, punching the jock in the stomach and slamming his knee into his face as he doubled over in pain.

The bully cried out and fell to his knees, hands flying up to clutch his nose. He glared up at Virgil, blood leaking through his fingers.

“Pathetic,” Virgil scoffed. He squeezed his hands into fists to hide the shaking of his fingers. “Fuck off.”

The bully growled and slowly began making his way to his feet, his buddies emerging from the crowd to help pull him up. He shrugged them off angrily.

Virgil could feel the adrenaline leaving him. He grabbed Logan’s arm, probably a bit too roughly considering the beating he had taken, stooped to grab their backpacks, and started speed walking to their bus stop. They needed to get somewhere private before Virgil’s anxiety caught up with him.

They were nearly at their stop, Logan still trailing numbly behind Virgil, when a car pulled up to the curb next to them and honked, causing them both to flinch. The driver’s side window rolled down to reveal Patton Havard.

“Hey,” he called to them, “I heard you both take the bus, but I’d really like to drive you guys home, if that’s alright? That was a pretty nasty fight back there.”

Virgil stayed frozen in place, but Logan started moving toward the car. The grip Virgil still had on his arm pulled him along.

“That would be appreciated,” Logan said stiffly, trying to hide his own shaking hands by taking his backpack from Virgil. “Thank you.”

Patton Havard’s entire body relaxed. His usual bright grin returned. “Hop on in!”

Logan gingerly pulled open the back door of the small car, expertly hiding a grimace. Patton Havard wouldn’t recognize the minuscule change in expression, but Virgil did. That finally spurred Virgil into action.

He helped Logan climb into the car and across the back seat, sliding in next to him. He wanted to buckle Logan’s seatbelt for him, but he knew babying Logan in front of another person would end in an argument later. He settled for buckling his own seatbelt and reaching into his pocket to rub his worry stone.

This was the worst beating either of them had received in a while. It was doing Virgil’s anxiety no favors.

Logan rattled off his address as Patton Havard directed the car back into traffic. Their chauffeur began rambling.

“I am so glad I managed to catch you two, I was so worried. That was such a nasty fight, I couldn’t just let you two take the bus after that, the buses take so long! Oh, should we go to a doctor? Oh dear, I don’t know how bad it is, are you guys okay? Do you need me to call someone? Oh, I’m so glad he let me borrow his car-”

Logan interrupted, probably wanting Patton Havard to focus on one topic than speaking randomly.

“I did not know you could drive. If this car is not yours, then to whom does it belong?”

Their driver laughed. “Oh no, we could never afford a second car! This is Roman’s! He let me borrow it to drive you two home while he tries to get Barton suspended.”

_Roman Prince_ was trying to help _them_ ? He taunted them just the same as everyone else! Why would _he_ care? Virgil pressed his thumb into his worry stone a bit harder, rubbing back and forth, back and forth.

Apparently, Logan was having a very similar train of thought. “I’m sorry, he’s trying to do what?”

“Get Steve Barton suspended? Maybe even expelled. He’s been trying to do that for a couple of years, now. I hate talking bad about people, but that guy is just such a _bully_!”

Virgil raised his eyebrow and scoffed, muttering under his breath. “And Prince _isn’t_?”

He watched Patton Havard purse his lips in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t expected him to hear him.

“Roman… He’s done some stuff he _really_ does regret. He hasn’t always been the nicest guy, but he’s trying to get better. It’s not entirely his fault, I don’t think he realizes sometimes, but he’s trying _real_ hard to learn. I think that’s what’s important.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of Logan’s house.

“Thank you for the ride, Patton,” Logan said, already starting to slip out of the car. Virgil slid out after him.

“Of course! Feel better soon! Take tomorrow off if you need, and get those cuts cleaned. See you at school!”

Virgil still didn’t entirely trust the guy, and his status in the school social hierarchy didn’t exactly help, but as he watched Patton Havard refuse to drive off until he saw that they got inside safely, he decided that maybe…

Maybe he could be just _Patton_.

That thought, however, was drowned out in the whirlwind of anxiety that hit him once he closed the front door. His breaths grew shorter, his hands shook, and his worry stone was no longer helping as much as it normally did.

“Virgil?”

Virgil managed to get in a deep enough breath to focus. He dropped his backpack by the door and made Logan do the same before rushing them into the bathroom. He was suddenly very glad they had arrived home early, nearly an hour earlier than usual. The Boman’s were still at work and as much as he loved them, they would ask questions and he couldn’t handle that right now.

Virgil sat Logan on the toilet seat. Logan tried to stand, but Virgil pushed him back down, giving him a firm look.

“Did you hit your head at all?” He asked, not waiting for an answer and pulling out his phone with shaking hands.

He turned on his phone flashlight and shined it into Logan’s eyes to check for a concussion, just like Logan taught him all those years ago.

“No, but Virgil-”

“Hold still.” He barely recognized his own voice.

Virgil pulled a pack of makeup wipes out of one of the drawers under the sink, wiping Logan’s face with it as carefully as possible, being almost _too_ gentle around his injuries.

He ignored Logan’s eyes boring into him and focused on the makeup wipe. Foundation, dirt, blood -- _so much blood, where was it coming from, was Logan okay was he dying --_

He had reopened Logan’s split lip, as well as a cut on his forehead he hadn’t even noticed.

“ _Shit_ , I’m-”

“Virgil, it’s okay. They need to be cleaned up anyway.”

Virgil nodded and turned to dig out the first aid things from under the sink. His hands were trembling so much that he almost couldn’t hold the antiseptic. Logan closed his hands over Virgil’s own, holding them tightly.

“You’re not okay,” he said gently, leaning forward to try and catch Virgil’s gaze.

Virgil ducked his head further. “I’m _fine_.”

“You very obviously are not.” Logan said, sounding slightly angry, but he released Virgil’s hands anyway.

His hands were steadier now. He could panic later. Right now, Logan needed him.

He carefully wet a cotton ball with the antiseptic, giving Logan an apologetic look as he came closer with it. Logan closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

He started dabbing gently at Logan’s lip. Logan grimaced, splitting the lip further. Virgil winced with him.

“Sorry.”

Logan shook his head ever so slightly, not enough to dislodge his hand but enough to be noticeable.

After finishing with Logan’s lip, Virgil wet a fresh cotton ball with antiseptic and moved to dab at the cut on Logan’s forehead.

“I thought you said you didn’t hit your head.”

“I didn’t. Someone else did.”

Virgil fought down the smile that wanted to rise. His hands became a bit steadier. “Fucking smart ass.”

Logan chuckled.

“Really, what happened.”

“That, uh, that was from the second guy’s ring.”

Virgil’s hand paused. “There was another one?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Logan sighed, shoulders slumping, the last of the persona he put up in public slipping away. He looked so broken like this, and it tore at Virgil’s heart.

The wonderfully rare sight of Logan’s freckles marred by the presence of cuts and the beginnings of a black eye causing the green of his eyes to dull. His exhausted expression, the tiredness creeping into his eyes. The bruises leading up both his arms, a torn left sleeve.

Virgil had failed to protect him.

“Yeah, but the one you beat up pushed him away, said it was his fight, so -- Virgil? You okay?”

No, he was very much not. Not only had he failed to protect Logan from not one, but _two_ attackers, it was finally sinking in that there were going to be repercussions for him joining the fight. The anxiety attack he’d been pushing down since he’d walked out of the school gates was crawling up his throat and choking him. Consuming him.

Sure, the school probably wouldn’t do anything about the fight so he was safe in the regard, but the students were sure as hell going to do something. The populars were going to _crucify_ him. It had been worth it to help Logan, but maybe he went too far.

This always happened after a bad fight. Whenever they fought back, all non-physical bullying got worse. The taunting, the name-calling, the mind games and emotional fuckery. _That_ was why Logan almost never threw a punch. He didn’t want to drag Virgil into it.

But now Virgil had dragged _Logan_ into it.

He was so _stupid!_ Sure, one of them getting bullied didn’t necessarily mean the other would, but their bullying was so often linked. They were all the other had, and the other kids had picked up on that, and they would use it against them. They were a package deal, everyone knew that.

Just because Virgil had some stupid fucking co-dependency issues --

Logan’s hands were cold on the feverish skin of his face. His thumbs brushed away tears that Virgil hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. Logan was talking and, while he couldn’t entirely make out what he was saying, Virgil could tell that Logan was counting for his breathing.

After a few minutes, Virgil finally had himself back under control. He pulled back from Logan and scrubbed at his own face. His hands came away smudged with makeup.

“Shit,” he sniffled.

Logan grabbed the makeup wipes from the counter and pulled one from the package. He gently took Virgil’s hands and scrubbed the makeup from them.

Once they were clean, Virgil grabbed a wipe himself and began viciously scrubbing at his face to let out some of his remaining pent-up nervous energy. Logan carefully stopped him and took the makeup wipe, cleaning Virgil’s face with a softness Virgil couldn’t possess for himself.

He looked up to make it easier for Logan, only to find Logan blinking too rapidly for it to be natural.

“Look at us,” Virgil said with a humorless smile. “Can’t even clean ourselves up without breaking down. Fucking messes.”

Logan matched his smile for a moment, but it quickly fell. His hand dropped, having cleaned away the last of Virgil’s makeup. Virgil went back to cleaning Logan’s cuts.

“Probably shouldn’t wear any makeup for a few days,” Virgil tried. “These don’t look good.”

Logan gave him an unimpressed look.

“Showing your freckles for a day or two won’t kill you,” Virgil muttered sourly.

Logan grumbled something about makeup and freckles that Virgil didn’t catch, but he let the subject drop. He knew Logan wasn’t going to leave the house without covering his freckles.

“Wanna take a nap?” Logan asked and Virgil jerked back in surprise.

He raised an eyebrow and lowered his hand to inspect the cuts. “ _You_ want to nap?” He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the cut on Logan’s lip as it beaded with blood again.

Logan sighed deeply and slouched even further, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face. Virgil grimaced at the blood smear on his cheek when his hands came away.

“I’m fucking tired.”

“Okay,” Virgil said softly.

He cleaned up the blood and bandaged Logan’s face before packing away the first aid materials once more. They made their way to Logan’s room, where Logan promptly slumped down to sit on the edge of his bed. Virgil carefully sat down next to him.

“This bothered you more than you’re letting on,” Virgil said quietly. “Didn’t it?”

Logan heaved a huge sigh and flopped backward on his bed, swinging his legs a little where they hung. “ _Feelings_ ,” he spat out.

“Yup.” Virgil flopped back next to him. “Unfortunately we all got ‘em. Helps a bit if you talk about it.”

“Eugh.”

Virgil snorted. “Just paraphrasing you, Nerd.”

Logan was silent for a few moments. “Their verbal taunts were a bit more… _vicious_ than usual.”

Virgil resisted the urge to turn towards Logan. He knew it was easier to talk without eyes on you. He stayed silent, letting him speak in his own time.

“It wasn’t the usual name-calling. Well, some of it was, but I’m used to _robot_ and _android_ and other petty nicknames about myself.”

Logan’s fingers twitched. Virgil subtly offered his hand. They could both be awkward and uncertain when it came to physical affection, at times, but if Logan needed it --

A hand wrapped tightly around his own. Virgil gently wrapped his own fingers around Logan’s.

“They insulted my family. My future. You. Probably hoping that if they threw enough taunts with enough bite I’d finally fight back and then they could pin the whole fight on me.”

“Logan-”

“It was quite stupid of me to allow myself to listen to them, I know. Their words mean nothing, in the scheme of things. It’s truly my own fault-”

“Fucking horseshit.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You can’t blame yourself for the shit they said!” Virgil sat up and glared at Logan. “You’re allowed to feel things. You’re allowed to feel hurt by words meant to sting.”

“Doesn’t that mean they won?” Logan snarked. He was using Virgil’s own words against him, the words he so often used to beat himself up.

“No.” Virgil said firmly. “It means they’ve _lost_ because they’re attacking one of the only good people left in that shithole of a school.”

Logan snorted. “Of course,” he said sarcastically.

Virgil dropped the issue, laying back down next to Logan.

Minutes later, the front door opened and shut. There was a moment of silence, then:

“Boys?” Mrs. Boman called.

“Here,” Logan called back with a sigh, dropping Virgil’s hand.

Logan was tensing up. There was no way to hide what had happened to him.

Mrs. Boman opened the door with a smile. One that immediately fell when she saw her son.

“Blueberry, what happened?” Her hands started fluttering around his face, wanting to touch but not knowing if she would hurt him if she did.

Logan’s mouth twisted a bit in discomfort. “I’m fine.”

Mrs. Boman sighed and kneeled down, dropping one hand back to her side and cupping Logan’s cheek gently with the other. “I know neither of you want to, but we should really go to the administration about this bullying --”

“We have attempted to do so for years, and they continue to do nothing. This time would be no different.”

Mrs. Boman huffed, a determined expression very similar to Logan’s crossing her face. “They haven’t gone through me yet --”

“Mom, please,” Logan interrupted. “Not only will it be ineffective, but it would get Virgil’s shit father -- I mean, stepfather involved. Since much of our bullying is shared, and he is not yet an adult, there’s no way around it.”

Mrs. Boman gave Logan a wry smile at his “slip-up” before sighing. “I suppose you’re right. We don’t want the Beste’s involved.”

She turned to Virgil, moving her hand from Logan’s cheek to comb through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “What about you, Blackberry? Did they get you, too?”

Virgil shook his head, though was careful not to dislodge her hand. “Kneed the asshat in the face, so I might get a bruise from how thick-headed he is, but I’m fine.”

She gave him a look that meant she knew that wasn’t entirely true, but she thankfully dropped it. She gave one last scratch at the short hairs at the base of his neck before standing up again.

“You’re father’s on his way home now. I’m gonna call him and have him make a quick grocery run.”

Logan and Virgil made brief eye contact with each other before turning back to Mrs. Boman with knowing looks.

“Breakfast for dinner,” she said with a smile, winking at the looks they were giving her.

It was a tradition that had started long ago, all the way back to when Virgil’s mom was still alive and Damien wasn’t in the picture. Virgil had come home with a skinned knee and a sniffling Logan at his side. He’d been pushed off the jungle gym at school and, when Logan had come to help, the bullies had called him names until he cried.

While Virgil’s mom patched them up, she had made a call to Mrs. Boman to explain the situation. During the conversation, Logan and Virgil had tugged on her shirt to get her attention and asked if they could have breakfast for dinner that night (because what kid _didn’t_ adore having breakfast for dinner?).

Then, the next instance of bullying, they had asked again. And again the time after that, and again, until they didn’t even have to ask anymore. They would come home, beat up and upset, and one of three parents would be sent to the store for ingredients. Even after all these years, the tradition had stuck.

And Virgil was quite glad he didn’t have to ask anymore, because he probably _wouldn’t_ , if he was honest. Not only had his anxiety only worsened with age (especially after his mother’s death), but it felt childish. He had an image to maintain. Even in front of the Boman’s, it seemed.

It made him feel a little guilty.

“And Virgil?” She said, making him look up. “Don’t think you’re getting out of staying for dinner.” She smiled.

“Thanks, Mrs. Boman,” he said.

She shook her head like she always did, but made no move to tell him to not be so formal, not like she used to. The Boman’s had given up on trying to correct him long ago, though they still expressed their distaste with him addressing them so formally.

She still smiled warmly at him, though. “Of course, Blackberry.”

He quirked one corner of his mouth up, a pathetic attempt at a smile, as she left, shutting the door behind her.

Logan heaved a sigh before standing. “Better get some work done, then,” he said.

Virgil snorted. “What happened to your nap?”

Logan gave him a wry smile. “I think we both know neither of us was gonna sleep.”

Virgil shrugged and stood as well. “You’re not wrong.”

They went and grabbed their backpacks from where they’d been carelessly tossed in the living room and once again retreated to Logan’s bedroom.

Logan sat at his desk and began working on one of their AP Government essays, while Virgil sat on the floor (Logan had offered the other half of his desk, but Virgil had refused) and began trying to muddle through his Pre-Calculus.

As usual, they worked for hours without pause. They needed to keep their grades strong. They didn’t allow distractions, ignoring the sounds of Mr. Boman arriving home, as well as the delicious smells of dinner cooking.

Logan worked much more efficiently than Virgil. He was focused on college, on his future. Virgil only kept his grades up for Logan. It’s not like he had the money for college, and with his reputation, it’s not like he’d get many scholarships.

Logan was going places. Virgil was only pretending that he was for Logan’s sake It’s not like Virgil was the only one in the room with codependency issues.

“Virgil?” Logan’s voice made him startle.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Do you need any help? You’ve been staring at that page for a while.”

“What? Oh, no. Just zoned out.”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Logan called.

Mr. Boman popped his head into the room. “Hey, kids, dinner’s ready.”

“We will be out momentarily, thank you. And we are not children anymore.”

Mr. Boman laughed. “You’ll always be kids to us. Now, kick those smart butts of yours into gear and come get your food before it gets cold.”

Unlike Mrs. Boman, he left the door open when he left. Probably to encourage them to come out sooner.

“We should go before they decide we’ve taken too long and come back to get us.”

Virgil hummed in response.

Logan made his way out of the room swiftly, marking his place in his English book and taking it with him.

Virgil sighed, rubbing at the pang in his chest. A drop was coming, he could feel it. He stood slowly and made his way into the kitchen and dining room.

Logan was already seated at the table when he came out, reading again. His parents sent him looks of fond exasperation.

“You’re already ahead of the class,” Virgil snarked. “At least put it down to eat.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re not my mother,” he snarked back, but set the book aside nonetheless.

Mrs. Boman rolled her eyes as well. “Of course you don’t listen to your _actual_ mother.”

Logan smirked. Virgil quirked his lips.

“It’s like you think my ‘rebellious punk phase’ ever truly ended,” Logan said, beginning to place food on his plate.

“Oh, we know it never did,” Mr. Boman laughed as he and Mrs. Boman began piling their own plates high with breakfast.

Logan and his father continued to fondly snark at each other, but Virgil tuned them out. He took very little food, not wanting to be greedy or eat so much that someone else couldn’t get more --

“Eat, Blackberry,” Mrs. Boman commanded. She turned to Logan. “Feed him.”

Logan snorted at his mother’s request, but began piling more food on Virgil’s plate anyway. “There is plenty of food, Virgil,” he said, somehow magically pinpointing the source of Virgil’s anxieties as usual. “We’re not going to run out just because you chose to eat a healthy amount. Dad cooks enough for a small army.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Virgil said, giving the family a small, grateful smile. “Maybe I’m trying to watch my figure,” he joked.

“What figure,” Mr. Boman teased. “You’re a stick.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, fighting back a smile. “A stick figure.”

Mrs. Boman burst out laughing while Mr. Boman choked on the bite he’d just taken. Even Logan covered his mouth to hide a grin. Virgil allowed himself a small smile.

“I hate you,” Logan muttered from behind his hand. “So much.”

Virgil could hear the laughter in his voice, as hard as he was trying to hold it back. It made him smile a little wider.

Logan could claim to hate puns all the wanted. Virgil knew the truth.

The rest of dinner passed normally. Logan and his father trading jabs back and forth (and Virgil occasionally trading his own) while Mrs. Boman watched on fondly. She also kept piling more and more food on Virgil and Logan’s plates, enticing Logan with a new flavor of Crofter’s jam to get him to eat more.

The Boman’s were good to him. Probably too good, if he was being honest. Their kindness toward him went above and beyond anything he ever expected. He’d probably never be able to repay them. They’d practically raised him after his mother had passed, trying so hard to protect him from Damien.

They were his family, which often led to him feeling guilty that he kept so much from them. It wasn’t their fault, he just had trouble trusting anyone anymore.

At the end of the night, Mrs. Boman piled his arms high with leftovers (“See, Virgil? I told you there was enough food.” “Shut up, nerd.”) and insisted on driving him home despite the fact that it wasn’t even dark yet.

He couldn’t stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief to find not only the twin’s cars missing, but also Damien’s.

“Thank you, Mrs. Boman,” Virgil said, trying to put as much sincerity into the words as he could. He didn’t just mean dinner.

She met his gaze and rested her palm on his cheek. “You’re welcome, Virgil. Anytime.” She understood.

She put a bit more pressure into the touch and glanced between his eyes. She smiled at him sadly. “I love you, Blackberry.”

Virgil’s eyes watered. She drew her hand back slowly and spoke again, saving him from having to answer.

“Now, run inside and hide those leftovers before the Beasts return home.”

Virgil furrowed his brow, still trying to recover from her earlier statement. “You mean the Beste’s?”

Mrs. Boman winked with an amused grin. “Get some good rest tonight, Blackberry.”

“You too, Mrs. Boman.”

Virgil rushed inside and shoved his leftovers in the very back of the refrigerator, where Damien and his kids wouldn’t think to look.

Especially since none of them cooked and were “too good” for leftovers. The family was disgustingly wasteful.

Virgil then quickly ran downstairs to get started on the homework he hadn’t finished at Logan’s. He worked quickly and efficiently, Panic! At the Disco blasting through his earbuds to help him focus.

He ignored all sounds coming from upstairs. He could hear his step-family get home one by one, even through his earbuds (how in the hell did they manage to be so loud?), tensing every time and trying to work through it.

Eventually, he heard them all settle down for the night. Again, one by one and very loudly (or perhaps Virgil was just too attuned to their movements, after years of torment). He continued working.

He continued until blinking became too hard and sighed in defeat. At least the rest of the assignments he was currently working on weren’t due until next week.

Checking the time, he actually dared to groan out loud.

It was two in the morning, and he had to be up by five.

So Virgil unceremoniously shoved all his school supplies off his bed and flopped down, still in his clothes. It wasn’t worth bothering to get changed.

Well… Virgil grunted as he shoved his jeans off and kicked them onto the floor, now left only in his t-shirt, boxers, and hoodie. That would have to do.

Virgil grabbed his scratchy, threadbare sheets and wrapped them as tightly around himself as he could, trying to gain any warmth from them. He wasn’t very successful.

He tried to breathe calmly for a few minutes.

It would be okay, he told himself.

He would meet Logan on the bus. They’d grab coffee from The Insomniac and hole up in Beach’s together. He would get a hilariously angry note and create another doodle. He and Logan would brave the students together, then he could run off to The Insomniac for his shift and let Maisey dote on him.

But he couldn’t convince himself it would truly be okay.

As Virgil shivered in his sheets and prayed for his mother’s miraculous return, he wondered if he would ever _truly_ be okay again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> -anxiety  
> -anxiety/panic attacks  
> -sexual harassment (non-consensual butt-grab)  
> -confrontation  
> -abusive family  
> -let me know if there's anything I missed (I'm very tired so I'm sorry if something slipped by)/there's anything you'd like me to add.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT AS OF 1/17/2019:  
> I finally fixed the issue where OVER HALF THE CHAPTER was cut out because of an /emoji/, I almost rioted, I can't believe it took me this long to solve that. So sorry, everyone who's been asking for months! Now you can enjoy the full fic!

The next week and a half continued exactly as Virgil expected.

People either avoided him like the plague or did their best to torment him. Luckily, there were no other physical altercations.

His “family” (though he loathed to call them that, it was the least wordy way to get his point across) still treated him like their slave, though that was definitely nothing new. Verbal and emotional abuse was tossed in between orders and directions.

He was just grateful that Damien left on a business trip yesterday. He’d have a (mostly) dick-free weekend.

The desk doodles and notes had continued as normal. Virgil would draw something and come in the next morning to find another angry note. Usually, it was funny, he had been getting a kick out of annoying whoever it was, but that day he just wasn’t feeling it.

Virgil had woken up feeling even worse than usual, which was saying something considering he woke up everyday feeling like complete and utter shit.

It wasn’t until he’d met Logan, seeming even more serious and somber than usual, at the bus stop that his brain caught up with his emotions.

October 3rd.

His mom’s birthday.

“You could’ve taken the day off,” Logan muttered once they were on the bus, quietly enough that only Virgil could hear.

“Yeah, right,” Virgil faked a scoff. “I’m fine.”

Logan looked at him doubtfully, but dropped the subject nonetheless.

His permanent scowl etched itself even deeper into his face as he walked into school. He couldn’t let his emotions get away from him today. He was vulnerable. He couldn’t give those vultures more ammunition.

When they got to Mrs. Beach’s class, Virgil put his bag down and unenthusiastically grabbed that day’s note.

 _Seriously????_ It read _Do you live to torment me?_

A brief thought flashed through Virgil’s mind -- _what_ was _he living for? Should he even bother to_ \-- he pushed it away just as fast. Logan needed him.

Or did he?

“Anything good?” Logan asked sarcastically, cutting into his thoughts.

“Nah,” Virgil sighed. He shoved the note into the bottom of his bag with the others.

Logan frowned but didn’t say anything.

They sat in relative silence until the bell rang, then gave Mrs. Beach their full attention. Virgil’s right hand stayed safely in his hoodie pocket, running away at the purple stone.

When Beach dismissed them to their assignment, Virgil sighed and let his imagination wander. He didn’t even realize he had started doodling until he snapped back into focus after nearly knocking his textbook to the ground.

So far, he only had a few generic shapes and squiggles. He could turn that into something. Probably.

By the end of class, he had finished what was probably one of his best cartoon doodled.

There was a young raccoon with a dejected look on it’s face, holding a wilting flower. A giraffe lay next to it, wrapping it’s long neck around the raccoon to offer some comfort, similar to a hug.

He definitely worried about how his emotions were showing through in the drawing, but there was no starting over now. He snapped a quick picture and followed Logan out of the class.

Classes after that dragged on. He had even more trouble focusing than he normally did. All he wanted was to curl up in his or Logan’s bed and sleep. Preferably forever. And preferably Logan’s, because his bed was actually warm and comfortable.

While lunch was normally a welcome reprieve, today it just reminded him that he still had four more classes left in his school day, not to mention work after. He sagged heavily into a desk near Logan. Mrs. Beach smiled at them sadly, picking up on the mood, before going back to grading quizzes. Virgil plunked his head in his arms, practically falling asleep on the desk.

He only sat up after Mrs. Beach stepped out for a minute, telling them she was going to grab her lunch from the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey,” Logan said softly, gently elbowing him.

When Virgil lazily met his eyes, Logan gestured to his usual desk. Like every other day, it had already been wiped clean, but unlike every other day, there was already a note sticking out of the textbook under the desk.

Dazedly, he went and grabbed it. He flopped back down in his seat next to Logan, wincing at the uncomfortable plastic.

“Well?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to open it? What if it’s from your person?”

“They’re not ‘my person,’” Virgil grumbled, but unfolded the piece of torn notebook paper anyway.

_Okay, 1) I hate that that drawing was adorable. I mean all your cartoon stuff is, but yeah. But, 2) Are you okay??? I know it’s kind of weird, since we’re strangers and fight all the time, but if you need someone to talk to, you can text me. I mean, I have no clue if you’ll see this before Monday, but I hope you do._

Then, there was a phone number,

Virgil stared at the note in confusion for a long moment before Logan finally sighed and pulled it from his fingers, scanning it himself. He then looked up, both eyebrows raised.

“What the fuck?” Virgil muttered, taking the note back.

Logan glanced at the door and seemed to be listening for a moment, before allowing a smirk to spread across his face. “Perhaps your drawings have finally endeared you to someone other than myself.”

Virgil scowled. Logan was way too amused by all this.

“Or,” he finally spoke, “they found out who I am and it’s yet another trick to hurt us.”

Logan’s smirk dropped as quickly as it came and he shrugged. “Perhaps. Either way, you knew what my stance would be on the number from the start. Messaging a stranger is not often wise.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. Logan had always been wary of strange numbers and internet friends. And because of Virgil’s anxiety, his own attempts at making internet friends never went far.

Logan was right anyway. Virgil had never planned on texting the number in the first place, but Logan backing him made him feel more sure in the decision.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, and stuffed the note deep into his backpack with the rest right as Mrs. Beach walked back in.

“Lunch is nearly over, boys,” she said. “I know you two like to get to classes early.”

Logan nodded and started packing away his study materials.

“Thanks, Mrs. B.,” Virgil said, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Mrs. Beach nodded. “Feel better,” she said softly.

Virgil shot her a small, rare smile.

The second half of the school day wasn’t any easier. It dragged on, Virgil’s mind bogged down with depression and anxiety and memories of his mom.

When the last bell finally rang, Virgil almost sighed in relief before he caught himself. If it wouldn’t have ruined his reputation or image, he would’ve raced out of school. Instead, he left as quickly as he could while still looking casual, careless, and angry.

He met Logan at the gate and they walked to The Insomniac in a somber silence. Maisey smiled at them when they came in, and Virgil took note of the pastel pink button on the strap of her apron.

“Hey you crazy kids,” she tried to joke, but her smile fell flat. “Your first drinks are on the house today, given the occasion.

Virgil nodded, not willing to spare an attempt at a smile with the other employee (wasn’t his name Winston? Virgil was pretty sure they’d worked together before) behind the counter making drinks, Maisey probably having told them their usuals when she spotted them through the window.

“Thanks, Maze,” Virgil said.

She smiled sadly, pushing her giant glasses further up her nose. “Hey, I know your shift doesn’t start for another couple hours, but would you mind coming to the back for a second? I need your help with something.”

Virgil furrowed his brow. “Uh, sure thing.”

“Great!” She beamed, slipping under the door in the counter.

He followed her back into the employee room and she shut the door behind them. Before he could ask what was up, she launched herself onto her tiptoes and into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“What-?” He managed.

“I’m sorry, I know I usually ask first,” she said. “You just looked so sad. I know you get really uncomfortable with how vulnerable PDA is, so I thought I’d bring you back here.” She squeezed tighter for a moment, like she was about to let go.

Virgil wrapped his arms firmly around her back, burying his face into her hair. He soaked in the heat that his touch-starved skin craved.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She simply pressed closer.

“I love you, punk,” she whispered after a few minutes. “I know you have trouble saying it back, so don’t feel obligated to, but I _do_ love you, _so_ much, and I need you to remember that.”

Virgil nodded shakily, his fingers starting to twist into her oversized cardigan and grasp it tightly. The soft fabric and earthy smell of her laundry detergent… It was grounding.

It was another couple minutes before they finally released each other and finally returned to the cafe/library area. Maisey went back to the counter and Virgil found Logan sitting at their usual table near the back, study materials already spread out across the surface.

Logan’s drink was kept held against his lips, always ready to drink. He was certainly going to be awake late, with how much caffeine Virgil knew to be in it. Virgil’s own drink was sitting on the table, waiting for him, right in front of the only chair with it’s back to the wall.

Virgil almost smiled. Logan knew him well.

“It’s the weekend,” Virgil teased, easing himself into the seat and taking a refreshing drink of his coffee. “You have plenty of time. Relax. Read a book.”

Logan looked up at him, unimpressed. “I have not had the chance to read for fun, aside from vacation days, of course, for the entirety of my high school career. I was under the impression that you were aware of this.”

Virgil rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, I was. You complain about it all the time.”

Logan made that one face he always did when his face went red, though he couldn’t see the blush with the foundation covering his face. “If it annoys you so much--”

“Teasing, Specs.”

Logan scowled.

Virgil shrugged, though the action was more something to keep his careless appearance than something he actually wanted to do. “Sorry.”

Logan waved him off. “I know nothing was meant by it. I am simply tired.”

Virgil hummed. “Guess we’ve both been working too hard. Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

Logan hummed, already distracted by his homework again. Virgil shook his head fondly and pulled out his own.

He allowed himself to get lost in his focus, able to tune out the sounds of the cafe, for the most part. It helped to know that Maisey would never let anything happen to him, not while he was in The Insomniac. She didn’t tolerate bullshit or bullying in her establishment.

There were so many other kids like him in this place, anyway. It was their sanctuary. No one was going to risk losing that by causing trouble.

Maisey would give up her life and business to protect them. She knew how it was.

Virgil snapped out of his hyper-focused state when Maisey sat down at their table. He blinked rapidly, dazedly trying to get his brain to re-adjust to the real world instead of only focusing on his health textbook. He looked over to Logan having the same issue.

“Work time, V-dog,” she said, tapping his notebook a couple of times with her fingernail.

“Alright,” he nodded, and she went back to the counter. He turned to Logan. “You sticking around?”

“I don’t see why not.” Logan shrugged. “Though I may leave before your shift ends, depending on how late you are working.”

“It’s a late one.”

“Very well. I will probably leave in time to catch the 8:30 bus.”

Virgil nodded. “Make sure to grab a sandwich or something, then, yeah?”

Logan nodded distractedly, already getting sucked back into his homework.

Virgil made a mental note to force Logan to eat before he left. He patted the table and stood, packing away his own homework. He ran and hid his backpack in the employee room and wrapped a brown apron around himself, fumbling to tie it in the back.

He and Maisey quickly adopted their usual dance, switching between the counter and library area seamlessly. Though he loved his job, his heart just wasn’t in it that day. He was exhausted and tired (yes, they were different) and sad, but at least work was providing _some_ sort of distraction. He needed a distraction.

Virgil made sure to force a sandwich into Logan’s hand around seven that evening, but ate nothing himself despite Logan and Maisey’s prompting. Sure, he hadn’t eaten all day, but he didn’t feel like he could force anything down. Plus, if he stopped working for even a moment, the world would come crashing down again.

Later on, he had to remind Logan to pack up his things in time to catch the bus. People always assumed that Virgil was the flaky and forgetful one, but once Logan got his head in a book, everything else vanished. He’d forget his own head if it weren’t on his shoulders. In front of the book.

But maybe he shouldn’t have remembered to send Logan on his way.

He was already starting to shut down.

The world was such a blur at that point that he couldn’t even remember if he asked Logan to text him when he got home safe. Did he say it out loud or did he just think it? He hoped he said it out loud. And that, if he did, Logan actually remembered to do it.

Virgil moved on autopilot for another hour. Then, for the fifth time, he almost dropped the drink he was making, Maisey decided to end his shift early.

“Go home,” he said, having wordlessly switched to the pastel blue button about two hours ago.

“Please,” Virgil said. “I need to work.”

He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know you want a distraction,” he said, far too gently, “but you’re shutting down. There’s not many customers this late, I can hold the fort on my own.”

“Maze--”

“Virge. Go home.”

He rarely called him Virge.

So he did.

He caught the ten o'clock bus. He didn’t get home until eleven.

It was Friday night. Christian and Kameron wouldn’t be home until late. Very late, if they came home at all.

Virgil tried to force down some food. Takeout leftovers that the Beste’s would never eat. He only managed a few bites before he couldn’t stomach any more. It wasn’t healthy, he knew, but he just couldn’t do it. It was frustrating.

He retreated to his “room,” pulling the divider as closed as he could. He left the lights off, pulling on his warmest pyjamas in the dark. The later it got, the more his hands shook. The more the memories haunted him.

Maybe it was a good thing Maisey sent him home.

He would’ve dropped so many drinks.

Well, that is, if he could really call this place home anymore.

Virgil was startled by how quickly his state had started deteriorating since he sent Logan home. Sure, he’d been going to shit before, but it had accelerated once Logan left. Maybe he should’ve asked to stay the night.

He would’ve felt guilty asking that, though. He took enough advantage of the Boman’s kindness as it was. He shouldn’t intrude more. Logan needed his rest, so did his parents.

So he laid in bed for hours, cocooned in his shitty, worthless blankets, wide awake despite his bone-deep exhaustion.

Christian got home around two in the morning. He easily recognized those thundering footsteps. Kameron didn’t come home. Unsurprising.

Around five in the morning, Virgil gave up. He was exhausted. He was sad. He just wanted to sleep. But, evidently, he couldn’t even do _that_ right.

He sat up. He punched his pillow. Threw the blankets at the wall. Heaved his backpack at the room dividers, knocking them over and spilling the contents of his bag everywhere.

Books, folders, notebooks…

Notes.

He stared at them for a few minutes.

Then, he lazily rolled off his bed and crawled over to the mess, his energy even more drained after his mini-tantrum. He looked through the notes, almost two weeks worth, now, trying to find the humor in them that he once did.

He couldn’t.

Virgil sighed and flopped backwards onto the hard, cold, basement flooring.

It seemed he finally hit that drop he’d felt approaching last week.

He went through the notes again and again, matching them up with the memories of his doodles in his head, too lazy to grab his phone and look at the pictures.

He kept pausing on the most recent note, the one he’d gotten during lunch yesterday. The one that matched up with that emotional raccoon. That bullshit drawing. He shouldn’t have even done it, it wasn’t even all that good.

The stared at the note.

The (most likely fake) concern.

The phone number.

Somewhat-rested Virgil was gonna regret this later.

He crawled back into his bed, searching for his phone in the mess he’d made. He found it under one of his pillows.

Stupidly, he input the number.

Logan would _so_ be on his case later. Hell, he’d be on his _own_ case later.

 **_V:_ ** _why the fuck would you give me your number._

It was barely six in the morning (already six? How long had he been on the floor??), so Virgil wasn’t expecting a response anytime soon. He wasn’t even expecting a response in general.

So when his phone buzzed a few minutes later, he very nearly jumped out of his own skin.

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Another early riser! This is my secret doodler, I presume? Good morning!_

Virgil furrowed his brow. Who the fuck texted like that? Who the fuck talked like that? Even Logan’s texting and way of speaking wasn’t that weird. He didn’t even know how to reply.

 **_V:_ ** _Not an early riser. didnt sleep._

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _What?? You need to rest!!_

 **_V:_ ** _dont sleep much_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _That is truly awful! What ails you?_

 **_V:_ ** _everything_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _oh_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Well, let’s start simpler_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _What was up yesterday?_

 **_V:_ ** _Mom’s birthday_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _okay?_

 **_V:_ ** _shes dead_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _oh shit_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _I’m so sorry_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _How are you doing?_

 **_V:_ ** _Shit_

 **_V:_ ** _Numb_

 **_V:_ ** _idk_

 **_V:_ ** _why am I even talking you abt this_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _idk_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Why are you?_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _I honestly didn’t expect you to text at all, all we’ve done is antagonize each other._

 **_V:_ ** _sory i guess_

 **_V:_ ** _sorry*_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Nah, you’re a really good artist, actually._

A voice that sounded rather similar to Logan’s screamed at him in his head.

 _What are you doing?!_ It yelled. _This is the most idiotic decision you’ve ever made in your life!_

Probably not Logan’s, then. Logan was much calmer, usually. Even when angry or upset.

 **_V:_ ** _You don’t know who I am, right?_

He had to make sure. He had to keep Logan and himself safe. This person could never find out who was leaving the doodles. And if they had, he had to back out _now_.

He tried not to think too hard on the fact that if the person didn’t already know, he’d probably keep talking to them. Sure, it was stupid, but he wasn’t gonna pour more shit onto Logan. That’s all he ever seemed to do.

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _No clue, why? Do you know me?_

 **_V:_ ** _No._

 **_V:_ ** _And you wouldn’t like me if you knew._

Way to go, Virgil. Just almost reveal your identity. You are the most hated person in school, after all.

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _I think I’d like to decide that for myself._

 **_V:_ ** _Let’s keep that private._

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Our identities?_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Alright._

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _What do you want to talk about, then?_

Virgil froze, furrowed his brow. The _fuck_ was going on here? Was this person actually trying to start a _friendly conversation_ with him? Virgil didn’t do _friendly conversations_.

 **_V:_ ** _The fuck do you mean_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _I thought maybe having a nice chat could help you chill out enough to sleep._

 **_V:_ ** _Its fucking mornign_

 **_V:_ ** _Morning*_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _Yeah_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _But_

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _You need rest_

Virgil sighed and rubbed his forehead.

 **_V:_ ** _one, why do you care?_

 **_V:_ ** _Two, not exactly the first time i’ve not slept_

He stood and started cleaning up his scattered school supplies. He shouldn’t leave those down for long, in case someone decided to come downstairs (though the occurrence was rare). Thankfully, none of his assignments seemed bent or ripped.

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _I care because you matter. Everyone matters, but it seems that you, especially, need to be reminded._

 **_V:_ ** _So you’re claiming that even assholes like me deserve it_

Virgil placed his backpack near his bed, handling it much more gently than before. Then, he picked up the room dividers and readjusted them to better hide his “room.”

 **_Note Writer:_ ** _I’ll decide for myself if you’re an asshole, thanks though._

 **_V:_ ** _literally all ive ever done to you is be shitty_

He picked up his awful sheets, shaking the dirt out of them and spreading them back over the bed.

**_Note Writer:_** _*shrug emoji*_

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ defense mechanisms _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ You seem like you’ve been through some shit _

**_V:_ ** _ Understatement of the year award goes to _

He replaced his pillows. They were thin, unsupportive, uncomfortable, but they were better than nothing. Maybe he could set aside some money to get some new ones, soon. And maybe some blankets.

**_Note Writer_ ** _ Twenty questions _

Virgil flopped back on his bed, brow furrowing.

**_V:_ ** _ What? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Let’s play 20 questions _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Maybe it’ll distract you enough to sleep. _

Virgil rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t noticed when, but his note writer had dropped their weird way of speaking. They just seemed like a person now. It helped more than he thought it would. 

**_V:_ ** _ Uh okay _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Great! _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ I’ll start! _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Ummmmm _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Hmmmmmmmmmm _

Virgil bit back a grin. This person was an even bigger multi-texter than  _ he _ was, and that was saying something. At least this way, they couldn’t get upset at Virgil for doing the same, not like Logan did. Especially at the fact that Logan had become a multi-texter  _ himself _ because of Virgil. It drove his friend insane.

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Let’s start with something simple yet important _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ So that I don’t offend _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ What pronouns do you prefer? _

**_V:_ ** _ He/him _

**_V:_ ** _ You? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ He/him, as well! _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Does that count as your question? _

**_V:_ ** _ I guess _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Alright _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Hmmm _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Favorite band? _

**_V:_ ** _ Evanescence _

Virgil refused to admit that he was already having fun. It felt stupid. He was playing some childish game with a  _ stranger _ . That shouldn’t be fun. He should be afraid.

**_V:_ ** _ Fave animal? _

He continued anyway.

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Okay, one: you’re an absolute emo. That with your drawing skills has led me to a conclusion. I’ve already decided. You’re adorable _

Virgil scowled.

**_V:_ ** _ Fuck off, I’m not _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Two: probably a lion? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ We’ll continue that argument when I have more evidence. _

**_V:_ ** _ No _

**_V:_ ** _ I’m fearsome _

**_V:_ ** _ Fear me. _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Mmmhmmmmm _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Lol _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Anyway _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Favorite TV show? _

Virgil furrowed his brow. When was the last time he actually watched TV? Sure, he’d sometimes catch an episode or two of something on Netflix or Hulu at Logan’s place, but he never saw enough to form an opinion.

**_V:_ ** _ Idk _

Is the response he eventually settled on.

**_V:_ ** _ Don’t watch much TV _

**_V:_ ** _ Can I pick shows I watched as a kid? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Sure _

**_V:_ ** _ Idk I guess I was into Danny Phantom and ATLA, maybe Kim Possible _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Kid you had some good taste! _

**_V:_ ** _ Thanks, I guess? _

**_V:_ ** _ Fave movie _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Uh _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Am I allowed to say every Disney movie ever _

He arched an eyebrow. And Virgil thought  _ he _ was indecisive.

**_V:_ ** _ Seriously _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ I can’t choose between my babies _

**_V:_ ** _ Psh _

**_V:_ ** _ Okay _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Why don’t you watch much TV? _

**_V:_ ** _ Gotta be a lvl 5 friend to unlock my Tragic Backstory _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ I can’t tell if your joking or if it’s that bad _

**_V:_ ** _ You’re* _

Virgil winced when he realized he’d corrected the other’s grammar. Logan was rubbing off on him far too much.

**_V:_ ** _ And _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Grammar Nazi _

Virgil winced again.

**_V:_ ** _ Gotta hide the pain with humor my dude _

**_V:_ ** _ Sorry picked up the correcting habit from my friend _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Shit are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ The tragic backstory, not the grammar nazi thing _

Virgil bit his lip. He really shouldn’t be considering this.

**_V:_ ** _ Idk _

**_V:_ ** _ The tragic backstory is messy _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Messy is nothing to be ashamed of _

**_V:_ ** _ You practice these lines or smth? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Nope, just hoping I’m saying the right thing to help you feel better. _

**_V:_ ** _ Well… _

**_V:_ ** _ Do you really wanna hear? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Only if you wanna tell _

Did Virgil feel ready to tell, though? This was a stranger. From his  _ school _ . Where he was  _ universally hated _ .

Then again, this guy didn’t know who he was. What were the odds of him finding out during or after Virgil told him? Were the chances small enough for it to be worth the risk?

Logan would say they weren’t. Logan would tell him he shouldn’t have texted in the first place. Logan would tell him to stop before he incriminated himself.

But Logan wasn’t here. And Virgil wasn’t exactly known for making the smartest decisions. Especially on no sleep.

Plus, he didn’t know what it was, perhaps the fact that they were both anonymous strangers, but this guy already felt  _ so easy _ to talk to. There were no preconceptions here. He had no reputation to live up to. It was… relaxing.

Refreshing.

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Secret doodler? _

**_V:_ ** _ Okay, one, that’s gotta stop. We gotta get nicknames or some shit. _

**_V:_ ** _ Two, I guess since we’re anonymous here… _

**_V:_ ** _ I’ll vent a bit _

**_V:_ ** _ but don’t press for more _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Scouts honor _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Share whatever you’re comfortable with. _

So Virgil shared.

He shared how he couldn’t remember his own father. How the man died one rainy day while driving to the airport, his car spinning out of control on the wet asphalt. How his mom found it too difficult to talk about him, so Virgil hardly knew anything about the man. “You have his nose,” his mother had always said. Virgil was pretty sure he had the man’s depression, too.

He shared how he met Logan (though he made certain not to use names). The reluctant friendship, two misfits looking for somewhere to fit. How they quickly went from simply sitting next to each other and never speaking to being attached at the hip. The bullying that followed them all these years.

He shared about Damien and the twins. How the man was so kind at first, drawing his mom and him in. How his kids were devils to Virgil, yet always seemed to get away with it. How the man’s behavior slowly started changing a few months after the wedding. How his mother started trying to avoid home, staying away from the house and sending Virgil to the Boman’s far too often. Trying to protect them both.

He shared about his mom’s death. A drunk driver while on her way to work far too early one morning, Virgil dropped off  at the Boman’s on her way. How she had only been going into the office that early to avoid Damien. How Virgil blamed  _ him _ .

He shared about his current life, feeling like his own personal hell. How he lived in the basement with barely the bare essentials. How he snuck around to shower and eat and work. His poor eating habits. His even worse sleep schedule. His fear of taking advantage of the Boman’s kindness. His crippling anxiety.

Everything.

And in hopes of making him feel more secure, his anonymous friend shared some as well.

He shared how he’d grown up, dismissed and disregarded. How he struggled to get his parents’ attention and approval, even now, only to be ignored or tossed away. How he barely saw them because they were always away for work.

He shared about how his older brother had practically raised him, though they were only a few years apart, when his parents and the nannies couldn’t be bothered. How they never went hungry for food, but were starving for love and affection.

He shared about how people found him annoying and bullied him, so he learned how to present himself as someone they would like, even if it was fake. How only his brother and his best friend truly knew who he was. How he couldn’t wait to move out, but was so  _ terrified _ to.

Virgil could relate.

**_V:_ ** _ Well _

**_V:_ ** _ Guess we’re at lvl 5 friends now _

Virgil yawned, wide enough to satisfyingly crack his jaw. They’d been talking for a couple hours now, whether it be meaningless bullshit or stuff so serious he even hesitated to tell Logan at times. It was one of the strangest yet one of the best two hours of his life.

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Lol guess so _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ How’re you feeling? _

Virgil yawned again.

**_V:_ ** _ exhausted _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Great! _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Get some rest for me, yeah? _

**_V:_ ** _ Trying to get rid of me so soon? _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Never _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Just want you to get some sleep _

**_V:_ ** _ Will do _

**_V:_ ** _ Thanks _

**_V:_ ** _ ttyl _

**_Note Writer:_ ** _ Anytime, B. Text you later _

Virgil yawned a third time and went in to change the contact before settling down for some rest. He changed the name to “P,” them having traded one letter of their initials to make it easier to address each other. He tried not to wonder what the P stood for.

Virgil had chosen “B” for Bunker. It felt safer than “V.”

Then, Virgil set his phone aside and finally fell into a blissful sleep.

He awoke a few hours later to that same phone ringing incessantly by his ear. He groaned and tried to slap at the device, hoping that would be enough to shut it up. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful. After a few more seconds, it finally stopped. He breathed a sigh of relief and started sinking back into the warm tendrils of sleep.

Only to groan even louder when the cursed object started ringing again.

He clumsily and reluctantly answered it.

“The fuck,” he croaked.

“What the fuck?!” Logan sounded frantic. “Answer your motherfucking phone, holy shit!”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his free hand. “Time izzit?”

Logan growled. “Eleven.”

“Fuck.”

“Mind telling me  _ why _ you didn’t pick up the first six times?” Forget frantic, Logan was _ pissed _ .

“Six?!” Virgil sat up.

“Yes,  _ six _ .”

“I-I was asleep.”

“Still?” Logan sounded shocked. Rightfully so, considering Virgil never slept in past 8:30.

“Didn’t fall asleep until fuckin’ eight or somethin’.”

“Virgil--”

“I know, I know, I need to take better care of myself.”

He heard Logan sigh into the receiver. “I’m glad you got sleep, at least. Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said, finally starting to wake up and become more coherent. “Did you need something?”

“Nothing in particular, I just realized I never checked last night to see if you’d gotten home safe. When you didn’t answer my texts or first few calls, I got concerned.”

“Sorry. And yeah, Maisey sent me home early.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad they did.”

Virgil hesitated for a moment. Logan would not be happy with what else he’d done that morning, but he couldn’t just  _ not _ tell him.

“While I’ve, uh, got you on the phone…” He trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I, um… I may or may not have texted that number? The one on the note?”

Logan was silent for a few moments. “Virgil.”

“Yes?” His voice got higher pitched as he waited for the scolding.

“I thought you had agreed with me yesterday. I thought we’d decided it was a bad idea.”

“Look, I know, okay?”

“Then why did you--” 

Oh no, Logan was getting frustrated. And when Logan got frustrated, Virgil got frustrated. And he  _ really _ didn’t want to fight.

“I was tired and sad and angry.” Virgil went on the defensive. “My inhibitions were down.”

“Virgil--”

“It’s okay!” Virgil tried. “He doesn’t know who I am!”

“He?” Logan sounded resigned. It was working.

“We, uh, we may have been talking for a couple hours.”

Logan sighed again. “I trust your judgement, Virgil, and I am sorry for getting upset. I just worry.”

“I know,” Virgil replied, shoulders sagging in relief.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I hope so, too.”

They stayed on the phone for a little longer after that, discussing assignments and school work and Mrs. Boman’s want for Virgil to come over again. Eventually, though, Virgil had to hang up.

He was rather glad for Logan’s wake-up call, now. He’d forgotten that he had another shift right after lunchtime. There was a good chance he would’ve slept right through it, considering he didn’t think to set an alarm.

He ran over to the basement window that looked into the front yard, standing up on his tiptoes and pulling himself up with his meager upper body strength to see through. Everyone’s cars were gone again. Christian must’ve left earlier that morning, probably for practice.

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief before grabbing his toiletries and towel and racing upstairs. He rushed through a shower, moving quickly to hopefully avoid being caught by one of the Beste’s arriving home. He quickly ran back down to the basement and threw on some random clothes he found at the top of his dresser.

Before he could start on his makeup and hair, his phone rang again. It was Maisey. He resisted the urge to groan yet again. They and Logan  _ knew _ he didn’t like phone calls. Why did they  _ both _ decide to call that morning?

“Yeah, Boss?” He answered, scowling as his hair had already started drying and curling.

“If you lie to me I’ll have your hide,” they said without explanation.

“Maze, what--”

“Do you feel well enough to go to work today?”

“Ye--”

“No, stop. Don’t answer me immediately. I want you to actually  _ think _ about it and then tell me. Do you feel well enough to go into work today?”

Virgil sighed in exasperation, but did what they asked anyway. He was tired, yes, but he had gone to work on less sleep before. He still felt heavy and there was still an uncomfortable weight in his chest, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been the night before. The talk with P must’ve helped. 

He could work.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I’m not great, still, but I’m good enough. I think working could help.”

Maisey was silent for a moment. “Alright,” they relented. “See you around one.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Virgil hung up and winced at the time displayed on his phone. He only had thirty more minutes to get ready. He glanced up and glowered at his filthy, cracked mirror. His hair had already started curling as it dried during the phone call.

He pulled his straightener out from his hiding place (hiding because he’d snatched it from Kameron when she’d gotten a new one) and went to work with it as quickly as he could. In the end, his hair was still slightly wavy, but he only had a few minutes left for his makeup.

Virgil smeared on his foundation and concealer, blending as well as he could with how he was rushing. He forwent contouring for the sake of time. His eyeshadow was a mess, but he was certain everyone would simply assume it was a “stylistic choice” considering his reputation.

He looked like shit.

Virgil scowled at the mirror, then at his phone. Whatever, he decided. It was only a three hour shift, and afternoons were slow anyway. Only a few regulars and Maisey would see him.

With that settled, he raced out of the house and down to the bus stop, barely catching the bus. He only managed it because the bus driver recognized him and waited.

“Thanks,” he managed to force out around his panting, and the old man nodded kindly.

Because of his lack of sleep, Virgil felt jittery and the bus ride felt slow. It was a weird combination of exhaustion keeping him from wanting to move and the lack of sleep feeding into his anxiety and making him  _ need _ to move.

He settled for texting his stranger.

Logan was really going to hate him when this ended up biting them in the asses later on. Hopefully it never came to that.

Then again, Virgil was already hating himself, the anxiety setting in and making him not want to text.

**_V:_ ** _ Sup _

Virgil cringed at the text he eventually decided on. He just couldn’t hold a normal conversation, could he? Let alone start one.

Yet despite his internal freakout, P didn’t seem to mind.

**_P:_ ** _ Hey! _

**_P:_ ** _ You sleep? _

**_P:_ ** _ Just got out of practice _

Virgil curled his lip in distaste.

**_V:_ ** _ Ah, sportsball _

**_V:_ ** _ And yeah, got a couple hours _

**_P:_ ** _ Not s sports fan, I take it? _

**_P:_ ** _ And you should have slept more! _

**_V:_ ** _ Hate to break it to you, I hate sports _

**_V:_ ** _ And I had to get up, gotta work _

**_P:_ ** _ Sigh _

Virgil stared at his phone for a full 30 seconds. Was this guy fucking serious?

**_V:_ ** _ Did you actually just fucking type “sigh” _

**_P:_ ** _ Yes _

**_P:_ ** _ Anyway we’re going for coffee/lunch, any drink recs? _

**_V:_ ** _ depends on the place _

**_P:_ ** _ This weird cafe/library by school _

Virgil froze.

Well  _ shit _ . Now he wished he’d told Maisey he couldn’t come in that day. The jocks were about to fucking  _ invade _ his home. Virgil just hoped no one tried to stir up trouble.

But first, he needed to defend The Insomniac.

**_V:_ ** _ It’s not weird, I like it _

**_V:_ ** _ And depends on what kind of drinks you like _

**_P:_ ** _ Caffeine lol _

Virgil rolled his eyes. He refused to admit to himself that the action was done fondly.

**_V:_ ** _ Okay but like, tea? Coffee? _

**_P:_ ** _ Coffee for sure _

Virgil bit his lip, thinking of all the coffee options they had at The Insomniac. Did he want some fancy sugary coffee drink? Or something a bit stronger?  _ To hell with it, _ Virgil thought, and recommended his favorite.

**_V:_ ** _ They have this cinnamon vanilla coffee that’s literally the best thing on this God-given earth _

**_V:_ ** _ But I usually just get black coffee because that fancy shit’s expensive _

**_P:_ ** _ I shall give this heavenly cinnamon vanilla coffee a try! _

The bus slowed to a stop and Virgil looked up, shocked that the ride had gone by so quickly. He exited and saw the group of jocks slowly making their way down the street, laughing and joking and just generally being loud and disruptive.

**_V:_ ** _ at work, gotta go _

**_P:_ ** _ All good, we’re almost at the place. Ttyl! _

Virgil rushed inside.

“Jocks incoming,” he said loudly, causing quite a few patrons to look up at him in fear.

Virgil made eye contact with Maisey (taking note of the blue button), who nodded with a set jaw. He then ran into the employee room and pulled on an apron, taking a few deep breaths to settle his anxiety.

Maisey would protect them.

But who would protect Maisey?

When Virgil emerged from the employee room, the previously scattered regulars had all gathered together at a few tables closest to the counter. Probably in case they needed Maisey’s help. Plus, strength in numbers and all that. The jocks were already crowded around the cash register.

“Virgil,” Maisey called, obviously being careful to avoid using “V-dog” in front of anyone who would use it against him. Maisey nodded at a bunch of cups and mugs lined up at his side, orders written on them or papers under them in shorthand.

Virgil nodded, walking over to the counter. Remembering how much it seemed to bother the guy, Virgil sought out Roman Prince in the sea of jocks and made direct eye contact before hopping up and sliding over the counter.

Roman Prince scowled.

Virgil resisted the urge to smile smugly.

He focused his energy on making the drinks, a few in the typical to-go cups you saw in most coffee shops, but most in Maisey’s classic oversized mugs, the feeling of ceramic making the place feel more homey.

To Virgil’s surprise, there were  _ two _ orders of vanilla-cinnamon coffee. He had been careful not to listen to who ordered what so that he didn’t find out who P was, afraid that he would accidentally give away his identity if he did. He would have to be careful not to watch who grabbed the mugs, either.

He made the coffee in his own special way that Maisey had never been able to master. He eyeballed the vanilla extract rather than measuring it like Maisey always did, adding a few dashes of cinnamon (Maisey never added enough). He then added a barely-there sprinkle of nutmeg (not enough for the taste to be prominent, just enough to enhance the cinnamon, though it often made the drink reminiscent of Christmas or wintertime) and a good amount of sugar. He finished by sticking a couple sticks of cinnamon in each mug for decoration.

It was his mom’s recipe.

Virgil set down the two mugs and called them out before quickly turning away. He  _ couldn’t _ know. It would get them both into deep shit, he was sure.

By the time they’d gotten through all the jocks drinks, Virgil’s hands were incredibly sore. There had been  _ far _ too many. He leaned back against the counter with a heavy sigh, Maisey eyeing him oddly.

“Two popular jocks,” he said, “ordering  _ cinnamon-vanilla coffees. _ A  _ secret menu  _ item. That  _ only regulars _ know.”

Virgil froze. He had forgotten that little detail.

Maisey’s eyes softened. “V-dog,” he said quietly, moving in closer. “I’m not mad. I don’t care if you told anyone, I really don’t, that’s your choice;  _ however _ , I do wonder what prompted it, given your history with these type of people.”

Virgil opened and closed his mouth a few times, uncertain about how to continue.

“ _ Especially  _ considering that it’s your mother’s recipe,” Maisey narrowed his eyes. “You did tell of your own free will, right? You weren’t threatened?”

“No,” Virgil said quickly. “No, it was my choice. Can I, uh, tell you after they’ve left?”

Though it seemed reluctant, Maisey nodded.

And so the two busied themselves with counter cleanup and organizing the bookshelves, adopting their back-and-forth dance of switching between the two. The jocks shot Virgil and a few of the other patrons dirty looks on occasion, but went no further.

That is, until Maisey made the mistake of walking past one of the tables they’d claimed.

One of the underclassmen, Virgil was pretty sure he was a junior, reached out and squeezed Maisey’s ass. The other jocks laughed.

To Maisey’s credit, he immediately whirled around and smacked the boy’s hot coffee right into his chest and lap.

“What the  _ hell _ , you  _ bitch _ ?!” The junior stood and tried to shake the liquid off his hands.

Virgil launched himself over the counter and forced his hands to stop shaking, preparing to intercept.

“Rather rude to grab someone without their consent,” Maisey growled. “Don’t you agree?”

“Chill the fuck out, lady! It was a joke!”

Maisey’s eyes were on fire. Virgil stepped in, protectively pushing Maisey behind him. The man had a fire in him, but he was small and far weaker than a football player.

“Hey, Bossman,” Virgil said, his voice eerily calm. “Want me to take care of this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil saw a regular with their phone out, giving him a look. He subtly waved his hand, motioning for them to wait.

The junior snorted. “That’s no man,  _ freak _ . Back off.”

Virgil moved out of his usual slouch, rising to his full height and towering over the kid.

“You’re mistaken,” Virgil said, voice still calm, hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps you missed the button?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Virgil gestured to the sign on the front door that detailed the cafe’s button system, instated long before Virgil arrived, back when Maisey’s grandfather still owned the place.

“The sign right there explains everything. If it’s too difficult for your small brain to understand, I’m sure we could simplify it for you.”

The kid stepped into Virgil’s personal space, snarling. “ _ Excuse  _ me?”

“Here we welcome peoples of all backgrounds, races, genders, sexualities, and religions. If you cannot respect that, you will be asked to leave.”

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but Virgil continued, not giving him a chance to speak.

“Actually, you will be asked to leave anyway, as you have sexually assaulted the owner of the establishment.”

“I did not!”

This time Virgil stepped forward, putting him and the kid chest-to-chest.

“You did, in fact,” Virgil’s voice lowered to a much more threatening octave. “That is what touching a person without their consent  _ is _ , which is precisely what you just did. This is not a  _ joke _ and you will not be excused for it.”

The kid bared his teeth.

“And if you will not leave, you will be removed by force.”

“Fuck you!”

Virgil grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt. He shot a look towards Maisey, who shook his head.

“Leave now,” Virgil growled, “and the police will not be called and we will not press charges.”

The kid wrenched himself out of Virgil’s grasp, a vicious look on his face. “Whatever! Fuck this place!”

He stormed out, quite a few of the jocks following him out.

“Virgil?” A small voice called from the tables the regulars were huddled at.

He and Maisey immediately rushed over to them.

“Virgil?” The small voice said again.

It was a middle schooler, one Virgil knew to be hiding away from her alcoholic father. He believed her name was Alice?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call the police?” She asked hesitantly.

Virgil kneeled down next to her. “No,” he said gently, slowly raising a hand. At her nod, he smoothed down her hair. “I’ll make sure they don’t come back to bother Maisey or any of you again.”

She bit her lip, obviously still uncertain, but nodded and set her phone back on the table.

Virgil stood and looked over the small group. At some point, they’d pushed two tables together and put as many chairs around then as they could. A few kids were shaking, others looked angry, but most just looked lost and scared.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked.

A few shrugs, but mostly nods. One boy didn’t respond, trembling and staring off into space. Nicholas, Virgil believed?

Virgil laid his hand carefully on his shoulder, ready to move at a moment’s notice in case it wasn’t wanted. Nicholas latched onto the hand and held it tight.

Maisey started to walk past.

Virgil grabbed his hand. “Maze?”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I need a sec.”

“Do you want-”

“No,” he shook his head, not looking at Virgil. “I just need a minute is all.” And with that, he fled into the employee room.

Virgil instead chose to kneel down by Nicholas, turning the boy to face him a bit. Nicholas’s eyes finally seemed to focus when he came into view. Virgil started leading him through some breathing exercises, noticing that many others in the group joined in.

“I -- I’m sorry,” a voice said behind Virgil.

He’d forgotten there were still some jocks present.

Virgil turned to glare at them, standing protectively in front of Nicholas and the others.

“We’ll talk to him,” Roman Prince said. He was the one he had spoken before.

Virgil’s scowled deepened.

“We’ll -- we’ll talk to the coach, he doesn’t deserve to be on the team after that.”

Virgil’s glare softened slightly but remained in place.

Roman Prince nodded uncomfortably. “Let us know if there’s anything more we can do. I believe we should take our leave now, as it seems we’re only causing more discomfort.”

Virgil nodded stiffly and his eyes followed them out. To his surprise, Patton approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder. As far as he knew, Patton wasn’t a jock. Though, he was Roman Prince’s best friend.

“Please let your friend, the owner, know how sorry we are?”

Virgil nodded. “I will,” he said softly.

And then they were all gone.

And the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“I need to check on Maisey,” Virgil said.

Alice stood. “I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

Virgil cupped her cheek with a small, sad smile. She was far too young to be as strong and mature as she was. She carried far too much weight on her shoulders. He wished there was more he could do for her.

But Virgil slipped away nonetheless, making his way into the employee room to find Maisey on the ground, sobbing and hyperventilating. He approached slowly and cautiously, leading Maisey through breathing exercises and wiping away tears as they came.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Maisey tried to say once he’d started calming down.

Virgil shook his head. “I think we need to call your grandpa,” Virgil replied, pulling Maisey to his chest.

“We don’t need to bother-”

“We do.”

Maisey sighed, but did not protest, so Virgil pulled out his phone to make the call.

Kevin Armel, former owner of The Insomniac, arrived in less than 20 minutes to handle the collateral damage.

He quickly took charge of the situation, putting all of the kids and Maisey at ease. Though it happened every time they met, every time Virgil called him Mr. Armel (causing Maisey to cackle each time), the man would just give him a playful glare and tell Virgil to call him “Pappy.”

The seventh time it happened, Pappy good-naturedly shooed him and Maisey away from the counter with their favorite drinks. He insisted on taking over for the rest of the day, staying until the night shift people got there.

“It’s best to just do what Paps says,” Maisey laughed. “He’s the mothering type.”

As much as Virgil loved seeing him in a better mood, Virgil couldn’t stop himself from losing himself in his worry. 

Sensing this, Maisey reached across the table and into his hoodie pocket, taking out his worry stone. He forced it into Virgil’s hand, then grinned at him conspiratorially.

“So,” he said, placing his elbows on the table and leaning his head on his hands, “cinnamon-vanilla coffee, huh?”

Virgil rolled his eyes but relented, absentmindedly rubbing away at the stone in his hand.

He started from the beginning, realizing he had never even told Maisey about the doodles and notes in the first place. Naturally, Maisey demanded to see the pictures Virgil had taken of every single doodle.

He continued on to tell Maisey of the most recent note, the concerned message with the phone number attached. He told of how he’d messaged the number in a moment of sleep-deprived stupidity and desperation. He told of how they’d already dropped all their baggage onto the table for them both to see. 

They’d gotten to know each other pretty well in just one morning.

Maisey hummed when he was done. “Not only did  _ you _ text a stranger, totally unlike you, but you guys shared your life stories within the first  _ two hours _ ?”

Virgil shyly rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…” he trailed off.

Maisey threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, V-dog. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Virgil said, cheeks going red. “It’s not like that!”

Maisey continued to chuckle. “Oh, come  _ on _ , Virge! I’ve seen all those  _ Another Cinderella Story _ moves. Your life is literally becoming a chick flick. Just you wait.”

Virgil scowled, although there was no heat in it. “No way, like I said, it’s not like that. And it  _ won’t _ be.”

“Mmmhmm.” Maisey smirked.

Virgil rolled his eyes.

Eventually Maisey and his grandfather forced Virgil to go home. Or more accurately, forced him to go to Logan’s house. Maisey even called Logan to make sure that’s where he went.

And then, Virgil’s life continued as it’s new normal, his new texting buddy added into his routine.

He spent his days slaving away in the Beste’s house, being force-fed by Logan’s parents, working more shifts than ever (mostly to protect Maisey), occasionally dealing with him or Logan getting beat up (and telling P how angry he was about it), and drowning in homework. 

P proved to be an effective distraction, which could be both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing in that he was there when Virgil’s head got too loud to deal with on his own. Those days where he felt guilty about constantly bothering Logan with his issues. P was always there, ready to listen or joke, depending on what Virgil needed.

Bad in that he was  _ very _ good at starting conversations at the most inopportune times.

**_P:_ ** _ B _

**_P:_ ** _ B B B B B B  _

**_P:_ ** _ Beeeeeeeee _

Virgil moved as sneakily as he could, trying to act as natural as possible so he didn’t get caught texting by his science teacher

**_V:_ ** _ WHAT?! _

**_P:_ ** _ Pickup line war, go _

**_V:_ ** _ We’re in fucking class _

**_P:_ ** _ ik _

**_P:_ ** _ Go anyway _

**_V:_ ** _ P _

**_P:_ ** _ Please? _

**_P:_ ** _ For me? _

Virgil was weak. He was  _ so fucking weak _ . He was definitely starting to go soft. He was losing his punkish charms.

All because a faceless boy with an amazing personality who he’d never met in his life said “For me?”

**_V:_ ** _ are you from tenassee cuz youre the only 10 i see _

**_P:_ ** _ Weak _

**_P:_ ** _ That all you got? _

**_V:_ ** _ Fuck you I’m in chem _

**_P:_ ** _ I seem to have lost my phone number, can I have yours? _

Virgil glanced around the room, making sure that no one had caught him almost laughing at that stupid-ass line. Or laughing in general. Reputations are a bitch.

**_V:_ ** _ You’re texting me rn dipshit _

**_P:_ ** _ So _

**_P:_ ** _ What I’m hearing is _

**_P:_ ** _ It worked _

**_P:_ ** _ ;) _

**_V:_ ** _ Oh fuck off _

This boy was going to be the death of him.

**_V:_ ** _ they say disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Apparently no one’s ever stood next to you _

**_P:_ ** _ Man after my own heart _

**_P:_ ** _ Right in there with the Disney lines _

**_P:_ ** _ I’m lost, could you give me directions to your heart? _

Virgil subtly moved the arm propping his head up to hide his mouth. No one could catch him grinning. Especially not at a  _ cheesy pickup line _ .

**_V:_ ** _ How convenient of you to bring that up _

**_V:_ ** _ Because _

**_V:_ ** _ I was wondering if you had an extra heart? Mine was just stolen. _

**_P:_ ** _ It was me _

**_P:_ ** _ I’m the thief that stole your heart _

Virgil felt the urge to start snickering. He forced it down.

**_V:_ ** _ Shouldn’t it be concerning that we know so many cheesy pickup lines? _

**_P:_ ** _ ;) _

**_V:_ ** _ Sorry, but Cupid just called. He asked me to tell you that he needs my heart back. _

**_P:_ ** _ Damn, you are good at sticking to a theme. _

**_V:_ ** _ ;) _

The pickup line war continued through the rest of the period and well into lunch, where Virgil was free to grin away to his heart’s content. Even if Logan kept giving him weird looks.

**_P:_ ** _ Alright, alright _

**_P:_ ** _ You win this round _

**_P:_ ** _ My first ever pickup line war loss _

Virgil ignored the jump in his chest. That was new. It probably wasn’t anything, though.

**_V:_ ** _ Victory is mine _

**_P:_ ** _ Anyway, lunch is almost over _

**_P:_ ** _ Did you eat? _

**_V:_ ** _ don’t really eat breakfast or lunch _

**_V:_ ** _ I just hide from bullies in Beach’s until lunch is over _

**_P:_ ** _ So THATS how you got the note with my number before Monday _

**_P:_ ** _ Usually I’d leave the note in afterschool tutoring for the next day _

**_P:_ ** _ But you really should eat _

Virgil smiled softly at the sentiment.

**_V:_ ** _ I’m fine, P _

**_V:_ ** _ It’s all good _

**_V:_ ** _ My body is used to it _

“So,” Logan interrupted his text conversation, “was Maisey correct? Should we be expecting a happy announcement soon?”

Virgil’s face flushed red. “Like I told them, it’s not  _ like _ that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow and hummed, looking far too smug. “Last time I saw that grin was  _ Jacob _ .”

Virgil cringed at the mention of his ninth grade crush. “Nu-uh, no way.”

Logan simply hummed again, going back to his book.

The playful teasing only grew worse when P started leaving lunch for him in Beach’s class. Now, even the  _ teacher _ had caught on and was giving him raised-eyebrow smirks.

Not that Virgil could really be mad. P left him some good food. Fruits like bananas and apples (only granny smith, P had somehow remembered Virgil mentioning his love for the sour apples in passing), sugary treats like cookies and candy. 

Once, when the days had started cooling off as October turned into November, he’d even left a thermos of soup for Virgil. A note had been left with it, telling him to leave the thermos with Mrs. Beach so that she could return it to him in after school tutoring.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and R -- excuse me, your  _ friend _ ,” she said when Virgil handed her the thermos. “But I think it’s been very good for the both of you.” She smiled at him warmly.

Virgil tried to forget her slip of the tongue.

All the while, Virgil continued his doodles. Based on Beach’s knowing looks, either she had figured out it was him or P had finally convinced her it wasn’t him. Either way, neither Virgil nor P were getting in trouble for the drawings (P finally stopped getting blamed for them, at least), so Virgil never brought it up.

It truly shocked Virgil how quickly he and P had become friends, though. Virgil was not one to trust quickly or easily. It had taken a few weeks for Logan and Virgil’s friendship to finally take off. It had taken  _ months _ for Maisey to get on his good side. What was it about P that had drawn Virgil in so much?

Maybe he’d never know. Whatever the case, P had quickly gained his trust and friendship. And perhaps even more.

For as the weeks passed, the two only grew closer. Close enough that it got to the point where Virgil’s face lit up like a Christmas tree every time he saw the contact name pop up. Of course, this only spurred on Logan and Maisey with their teasing, despite Virgil’s insistence of “it’s not  _ like _ that!”

But maybe it was.

As time continued on and the friendship grew deeper, Virgil realized it may actually be like that. Like the idiot he was, Virgil had started falling for the personality of this flirtatious, teasing, smug bastard. Someone he’d never even seen or met. Hell, he didn’t even know the guy’s  _ name _ .

Yet here he was. Slowly falling harder and harder for P.

So Virgil decided to keep his feelings quiet. Nothing good would come out of it. Virgil knew they couldn’t find out each other’s identities. They came from vastly different groups, their social circles were universes apart. 

P was a jock. He was probably popular. People probably loved him. People were probably lining up left and right to go on a date with him.

Virgil was the most hated kid in school. He was the school freak. People targeted him because he was different and they didn’t like that. And Virgil knew that P couldn’t change that.

He would just drag P down.

He wasn’t going to destroy whatever reputation P had by trying to ask him out, let alone meeting him and becoming public with their friendship. Virgil’s reputations would tear P’s to  _ shreds _ .

So despite Maisey’s prodding to say something and Logan’s concern for his happiness, Virgil was determined to keep quiet. He was perfectly content remaining friends. He wasn’t good with change, anyway. Things were good, right now, they were going well. He could be happy like this.

Couldn’t he?

He thought so.

Then, as November started blurring into December, P had to go and drop a bomb on him at  _ three in the fucking morning _ .

**_P:_ ** _ I know your sleeping habits are shit so if you’re awake please don’t respond until I’m done _

**_P:_ ** _ Though I really do hope you’re asleep _

**_P:_ ** _ I need to get this out _

**_P:_ ** _ Please don’t reply until I’m done _

**_P:_ ** _ I thought I could live like this but I can’t _

**_P:_ ** _ I think _

**_P:_ ** _ That I really like you _

**_P:_ ** _ Like, middle school like-like _

**_P:_ ** _ More than a friend “like” _

**_P:_ ** _ I’ve had crushed before but none of them have ever felt like this before. This is so much more intense than any crush I’ve had before and I don’t know what to do _

**_P:_ ** _ You’re adorable and kind and funny and cute and the chillest ball of rage and anxiety that I’ve ever seen _

**_P:_ ** _ I want to see you _

**_P:_ ** _ I want to hold your hand _

**_P:_ ** _ I want to hug you and cuddle while watching movies and youtube and tv _

**_P:_ ** _ I want to be that mushy disgusting couple with you _

**_P:_ ** _ I totally get if you don’t feel the same way _

**_P:_ ** _ I know I’m being pretty forward right now _

**_P:_ ** _ God, I probably just put so much pressure on you right now _

**_P:_ ** _ You don’t deserve my bullshit and issues _

**_P:_ ** _ Sorry, I really do hope you’re asleep tbh, I hope I didn’t wake you _

**_P:_ ** _ Hi google how to unsend messages _

**_P:_ ** _ Can we just? Forget I sent any of this? _

**_P:_ ** _ Goodnight _

Virgil woke up to the spam of messages on his phone. He read through the texts twelve times before booking it out of the house and racing through the neighborhood to Logan’s house, completely disregarding the fact that it was 7 in the morning on a Saturday.

After five minutes of knocking, Logan finally opened the door, tired eyes glaring.

“We have a crisis,” Virgil said.

Logan sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Is this a step-douche crisis, a school crisis, or a cute boy crisis?”

“Cute boy crisis.”

Logan threw his head back with a groan, but let Virgil in anyway.

Virgil was certain that if it wasn’t so cold, Logan would’ve shut the door in his face (as a joke, of course, doing it for a second before letting him in, but it would’ve still happened).

They retreated immediately to Logan’s room, as his parents were still asleep. Logan immediately held out his hand for Virgil’s phone, an unimpressed look on his face. Virgil hesitantly handed it over.

Logan scanned through the messages before looking up and Virgil tiredly. “He wants to date you,” he deadpanned.

“Are you  _ sure _ , though?”

Logan stared at him. “How in the  _ fuck _ can you misconstrue this?”

Virgil shrugged, bringing his thumb to his mouth to chew on the nail. His worry stone was still at home on his dresser. “What if it’s a bad idea?”

Logan’s expression softened. He put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “I can’t make that decision for you.”

“Logan, he’s-he’s a  _ jock _ . He’s probably popular and handsome and cool and I know for a fact that he’s a  _ great _ fucking person and I’m just -- me.”

“Well, I’m not certain I understand what’s wrong with ‘you,’ but once again, this is a choice you have to make for yourself. I can’t tell you what to do here. This is your life and I’m not going to control it for you like so many others have tried to.”

Virgil bit his lip as Logan guided him over to sit on the bed. It took another ten minutes for him to come to his decision.

**_V:_ ** _ what if i told you _

**_V:_ ** _ i felt the same _

To his shock, P responded  _ immediately _ .

**_P:_ ** _ I probably would cry _

**_P:_ ** _ i am crying _

**_P:_ ** _ You do? _

Virgil smiled, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Logan smiling at him, looking proud.

**_V:_ ** _ I do _

**_V:_ ** _ Did you sleep? _

**_P:_ ** _ no, I was too nervous about what you’d say _

**_V:_ ** _ P… _

**_P:_ ** _ I care too much about you to lose you _

Virgil’s smile grew and he let out a weak laugh. Logan reached over and rubbed his shoulder.

**_V:_ ** _ So, what does this mean for us now? _

**_P:_ ** _ I don’t know yet _

**_P:_ ** _ I just know that I’m impossibly happy. _

Virgil covered his mouth and leaned into Logan, Logan’s arm coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

_**_V:_ ** _ Me too _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblrs:
> 
> Me: [sociallyawkward--fics](sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com)  
> Luna: [podcastsandcoffee](podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS:  
> -anxiety  
> -mentions of anxiety attack (not in detail)  
> -negative self-talk  
> -abusive family  
> -let me know if I missed anything/you need me to add something

**_P:_ ** _ I want to know who you are _

**_P:_ ** _ But _

**_P:_ ** _ I think it would be more romantic and dramatic  _

**_P:_ ** _ If we did it as like _

**_P:_ ** _ A surprise. _

**_P:_ ** _ Like, meet without telling each other who we are yet _

Virgil smiled from where he hung upside down off of Logan’s bed. Logan himself had retreated to his desk after giving Virgil another smile, probably working on homework.

**_V:_ ** _ Because we all know you’re a hopeless romantic _

**_P:_ ** _ You know it darling ;) _

Virgil’s smile turned into a wide grin and he bit his lip to contain it. P was flirtatious before, but it was usually as a joke. It was bound to get worse now, and Virgil couldn’t exactly say that he minded.

**_P:_ ** _ THE DANCE _

**_V:_ ** _ What? _

**_P:_ ** _ Winter formal! _

**_P:_ ** _ We can keep our identities a secret until then and it’ll be all romantic and dramatic like the movies! _

Virgil’s grin fell as the reality of the situation sunk in. He had to think past what his own heart wanted and look at the real world. This is exactly what his heart had wanted, but exactly what his brain had feared.

**_V:_ ** _ Okay _

**_V:_ ** _ serious talk for a seconde _

**_V:_ ** _ I’m terrified _

**_P:_ ** _ About what? _

**_V:_ ** _ All of this _

**_V:_ ** _ One, never had a relationship before _

**_V:_ ** _ Two, I’m Me and you’re You _

**_P:_ ** _ What’s that supposed to mean _

**_V:_ ** _ You’re a jock _

**_V:_ ** _ A sports star _

**_V:_ ** _ You’re probably popular, handsome, loved by all (whether they know the real you or not) _

**_V:_ ** _ A pretty good reputation, I’m sure. _

**_P:_ ** _ B _

**_V:_ ** _ Me? _

**_V:_ ** _ It’ll probably give you a huge hint to my identity, but I am literally public enemy #1 at school, hated by all _

**_V:_ ** _ Probably even you tbh, since you don’t know it’s me _

**_V:_ ** _ I’m not exactly good looking. I look like shit constantly, no matter how much makeup I slather on _

**_V:_ ** _ I can get mean and angry, both as a defense mechanism and just because I’m a Mean and Angry person _

**_V:_ ** _ My reputation is shit and I don’t want it to ruin yours because reputations mean EVERYTHING in this day and age _

**_P:_ ** _ B, I dont care about that _

**_V:_ ** _ And you probably wouldn’t like me if you met me _

**_V:_ ** _ There’s so much that could go wrong _

“Virgil?”

“Having a crisis, leave a message at the beep.”

**_V:_ ** _ Plus how am I supposed to GET there _

**_V:_ ** _ Money? A suit and tie? A mask, isn’t it a masquerade? _

**_P:_ ** _ Please? _

**_P:_ ** _ For me? _

**_V:_ ** _ Fuck you and fuck me for being weak to those fucking three words for you _

**_P:_ ** _ ;) _

**_P:_ ** _ I don’t want it to seem like I’m disregarding your fears _

**_P:_ ** _ I care a lot about how you feel _

**_P:_ ** _ But I truly believe that it’ll be okay _

**_P:_ ** _ Let me worry about the tickets _

**_V:_ ** _ I can’t ask you to do that _

**_P:_ ** _ You’re not asking _

**_P:_ ** _ I’m offering _

“Crisis averted?”

Virgil looked up to see Logan turned around in his desk chair, facing Virgil. He leaned forward, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m… honestly not sure.”

Logan furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“He… wants to meet. At the winter formal.”

Logan frowned. “That’s in only a week.”

Virgil glared. “Why aren’t you against this? You don’t trust him. You don’t know him. You  _ hate _ the idea of anonymous communication like this.”

Logan’s face softened. “Because he makes you happy, Virgil.” He gave a wry smile. “And if he can make  _ your _ angsty ass smile, he’s alright in my book.

Virgil gave a weak smile before groaning and rolling over on the bed so that he now laid on his stomach.

“What are you going to wear?”

He groaned again and buried his face in the bedsheets. “Fuck if I know,” he said, muffled by the blankets.

“What?”

Virgil reluctantly raised his head. “I said, ‘Fuck if I know.’ I haven’t even said yes, yet.”

“Well fucking say yes, then!” Logan scowled.

So Virgil did.

Logan sighed. “Your shift is soon,” he said, “we can worry about it later.”

Virgil stood and stretched.

“The shower and Mom’s straightener are free for you to use. I think I still have some spare clothes of yours, here.” 

Virgil nodded and headed down the hall to the bathroom. He allowed himself a slightly longer shower than usual, relishing in the ability to use hot water here. He didn’t have to worry about fogging up the mirror and leaving evidence that he used the shower without permission.

At some point, the door opened and he heard Logan’s uniform footsteps enter the room. He left quickly after, shutting the door again behind him. Virgil peeked through the curtain to see that Logan had left “Virgil’s” towel and a change of clothes.

The Boman’s were too good to him.

He eventually emerged from the wonderfully warm water, quickly drying off and getting dressed. He made quick work with the straightener, the heat of it helping to dry his hair much faster. 

Mrs. Boman’s straightener was much more effective than his shitty one, that was for sure.

Virgil left the bathroom and walked down the hall to Logan’s room, intending to ask about makeup, only to find Logan already lining up bottles and palettes. He looked up when Virgil walked in.

“I, uh, thought since we still have an hour or so until we have to leave…” Logan rubbed the back of his neck.

Virgil smiled, knowing exactly what Logan wasn’t asking. He sat down in front of Logan and closed his eyes.

Logan let out a quiet, relieved sigh.

Virgil loved having his makeup done by someone else. It was a calming and relaxing in a way that little else was. Not to mention, it allowed him to be vulnerable in a way that he rarely was.

It was a little over thirty minutes later when Virgil finally felt Logan lean back, the soft brushes leaving his face.

“Alright,” Logan said. “I think it’s done.”

Virgil smiled, pulling out his phone to see.

It looked  _ amazing _ . While Logan was typically one for simpler, more natural makeup looks (even during his punk days), he had definitely worked with makeup enough to master Virgil’s flare for the dramatic.

Elaborate purple and black eyeshadow, matched with a purple and black ombre lip look. Amazing contouring that made his face even sharper. He looked  _ killer _ .

“Screw science,” Virgil told Logan with a smirk, “you should become a makeup artist.”

Logan chuckled and shook his head. “I’m more than fine keeping it simply as a hobby.”

Virgil hummed. “Such a shame.”

Then, in an act completely unlike himself, Virgil snapped a couple of quick selfies, getting a few angles of the look. He told himself it was just so that he could try to recreate it later, but he knew it wasn’t  _ just _ for that. For once, he actually felt like he looked  _ good _ .

Another reason to love other people doing his makeup.

By the time they were done, Mrs. Boman had woken up. She convinced them to eat a quick breakfast before heading out, practically force feeding them Crofters-covered toast.

The bus ride was uneventful, but the second they walked into The Insomniac, Maisey was wolf-whistling

“ _ Dayum _ , V-dog!” They called out. “Got a hot date with phone boy later?”

Virgil scoffed. “No way,” he said.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, leaning against the counter.

Maisey froze from where they’d been messing with the coffee machine, eyes wide. They slowly turned to fully face Logan and Virgil (Virgil’s eyes flicked down for a moment. Pink button.).

“ _ What _ ?” She whispered.

“Virgil’s phone boy has asked him to the school’s winter formal,” Logan said with a barely-there smirk.

Maisey seemed to short-circuit for a second. Then, she screamed and launched herself over the counter to hug Virgil. If he hadn’t moved to catch her, she would’ve face-planted into the counter and possibly toppled over it.

She then pulled back and slipped under the door in the counter, dancing around the room and singing, “V-dog’s got a da-ate, V-dog’s got a da-ate!”

The regulars laughed.

“Congrats, Virge!” Alice called from her corner.

Nicholas smiled at Virgil from his.

“You get ‘em, Virge!” Esperanza (or at least, what sounded like her) shouted, hidden somewhere in the stacks.

The room erupted in applause.

Virgil prayed that Logan’s foundation was thick enough to cover his blush.

Morgan pretended to wipe a tear from their eye, walking up to the counter. “They grow up so fast,” they sniffled.

“Oh, fuck off,” Virgil said, though there was no heat in it.

“Alright, get to work, loverboy,” Maisey laughed, shoving him towards the employee room for his apron.

Business was rather slow that day, meaning that Maisey and Virgil had far too much time on their hands.

“So,” Maisey said, draping herself over the counter, “what are you gonna wear?”

Virgil sighed, leaning back against the counter across from her. “No clue,” he said. “Not like I can afford anything fancy.”

Maisey frowned for a moment before her face lit up. “Okay,” she said, whipping out her phone and typing rapidly. “Meet me at this address at six tonight, yeah? Both of you.”

Virgil felt his phone buzz in his pocket, probably a text from Maisey with the address. “Okay…?” He said hesitantly.

Maisey grinned, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Don’t look so worried! You just let me take care of everything!”

“That’s why I’m worried,” Virgil teased.

Maisey shoved him.

The rest of his shift was full of plenty of good-natured teasing from his Insomniac family. He didn’t really mind, though. It was good to see them all happy and having a good time.

After his shift, he and Logan headed back to the Boman’s to work on homework, despite already being ahead in most of their classes. They ended up losing track of time and having to rush to the address Maisey had sent them.

It was a small, family-owned diner, very reminiscent of the 1950s. Through the windows, Virgil could see red vinyl booths and waitress and waiters on roller skates. He turned to Logan with a raised brow.

Logan simply shrugged and started walking toward the entrance. Virgil jogged to catch up.

A bell on the door jingled as they walked in. Stereotypical diner music played through the restaurant speakers. Wait staff gave them smiled as they skating by with trays.

“This is exactly Maisey’s scene,” Virgil muttered absentmindedly, taking in the decor.

There was a shout across from the diner, “It’s my boys!” 

Virgil and Logan looked over to see Maisey in a curved corner both, waving a hand wildly.

They weaved around tables and wait staff and customers, Virgil shrinking more and more into his hoodie as they walked. Sure, the place was homey, but it was no Insomniac. It was far too busy and loud for his tastes.

They slid into the booth with Maisey and Virgil’s hand immediately went to his hoodie pocket to rub away at his worry stone. Maisey smiled reassuringly.

“Pronouns?” Logan asked before any conversation could even start.

“They/them,” Maisey smiled. “Anyway, I’ve already found you a  _ gorgeous _ mask!”

They pulled out their phone and quickly unlocked it before shoving it in Virgil’s face.

It  _ was _ a gorgeous mask. The t-zone was a shining silver, morphing into a deep purple below the eyes. The right side of the forehead carried carvings that almost looked like hearts, the designs continuing down the nose. Surrounding the eyes was a vibrant, glittering purple. Sparkling silver swirls decorated under them.

Virgil gaped at it for a few minutes. It wasn’t until Logan pried the phone out of his hands to see for himself that Virgil looked up.

“I--I--” Virgil didn’t know what to say.

Maisey smiled, reaching over to hold Virgil’s hands. “Please let me do this for you,” they said.

He stared into their eyes. “Okay,” he whispered.

Maisey squeezed his hands, smile brightening, before pulling back.

“Okay, you two,” they said. “Check out the menu and order whatever you want! My treat!”

The menu was filled with typical diner food, all looking mouth-wateringly good. Both Logan and Virgil ended up going with burgers, though Virgil chose fries as a side and Logan chose a salad. Maisey got an even  _ bigger _ burger with a milkshake.

Instead of their waitress bringing their food back to their table, their meals were brought over by a man who seemed to be the head chef. He set the food down in front of them before sliding into the booth next to Maisey and leaning over to kiss them on the cheek.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, hand frozen halfway between his plate and mouth, holding a fry.

Maisey fidgeted uncomfortably. “Sorry, I, uh, meant to tell you guys, but you know how much of a bitch anxiety can be.” 

Logan set down his burger and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“This is Bill,” Maisey said nervously. “He’s been my queer-platonic partner for a couple of weeks. I’ve been friends with him and his husband for a while, now.”

Virgil looked at Bill.

“Uh, hey,” he said. He had a very heavy southern accent. “Nice to meet you boys.”

Virgil’s first impression of the man? The kindly diner guy from Stranger Things. A big southern teddy bear.

Virgil glanced between Maisey and Bill. “Treat them right,” he eventually said.

Bill nodded. “I wholeheartedly intend to.”

Virgil nodded.

The tense atmosphere quickly vanished after that as everyone dug into their food. It was  _ amazing _ . It was on par with  _ Mr. Boman’s _ cooking, that’s how good it was.

“Oh my God, Bill,” Maisey moaned. “If you weren’t already married I’d snatch you up for myself.”

“The food  _ is _ amazing, sir,” Logan said.

Bill tossed back his head and laughed heartily. “Oh, none of that ‘sir’ business, please,” he said. “Family of Maisey’s is family of mine.”

“Speaking of family,” Maisey said around a mouthful of burger, “where’s the hubs?”

Bill frowned. “He  _ should _ be here by now. He probably lost track of time.” He craned his head and called out to a waitress. “Lana! Can you check the office for Jay?”

The waitress smiled brightly and nodded.

Bill smiled at the group. “Jason and I run this place together, but I do more cooking and interpersonal work while he handles more of the business stuff.”

The waitress, Lana, came skating back to the table with a large man in tow. Virgil’s first thought was  _ Is that Matt Cohen?? _ before realizing the man was  _ far _ too tall.

The man leaned over to plant a quick kiss on Bill’s lips before gesturing at the seat next to Logan.

“May I sit?” He asked. His voice was far quieter than Bill’s, it almost couldn’t be heard over the din of the restaurant. His southern accent was also much more subtle (though still present).

Logan nodded, scooting over a bit to make room.

“So, you’ve met Bill,” said the man. “I’m Jason. I assume you’re ‘Maisey’s boys’ that they love to brag about?”

Logan wiped his hands off on a napkin before offering a hand for Jason to shake. “I am Logan Boman. It is nice to meet you.”

Virgil did his typical two-finger salute. “Virgil,” he said gruffly.

“It’s good to meet you both,” Jason smiled softly.

“So,” Maisey said, polishing off the last of their food, “about what we discussed earlier?”

Virgil and Logan looked at Maisey in confusion, but Jason nodded.

“Virgil, Maisey tells us that you have a danced to go to?” Jason asked.

“He has a  _ date _ ,” Maisey proclaimed proudly.

Bill chuckled and wrapped an arm around their shoulders. “You’ve got a good friend here, Virgil,” he said.

“I’m aware,” Virgil said warily.

“Maisey has asked if we might make something for you to wear,” Jason said.

Virgil almost choked on his sip of water. “What?!” He asked incredulously.

Jason smiled softly again. “I’m rather good with a sewing machine. And at making patterns. I’d be happy to do it. Maisey showed me your mask and I already have some ideas, I just want to know how you feel about this whole thing first.”

Virgil hesitated. “How much will I owe you?”

“No charge,” Jason said.

Virgil narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Virgil,” Bill spoke. “Jason and I know what it’s like to have it rough.” He smiled sadly at the table before looking back up. “I’m aware we just met, but we are more than happy to do this for you.”

Under the table, Logan grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Virgil looked over at Maisey. They nodded with a smile.

“Okay,” Virgil said.

Jason and Bill smiled brightly at him.

“That’s great,” Bill exclaimed. “Would it be alright for Maisey to bring you by our apartment tomorrow?”

“For measurements,” Jason said. “As well as sharing what ideas I have so far.”

Virgil looked over at Maisey again, who nodded once more. He then turned to Logan, who stared back.

“Can Logan come?” He asked.

“Of course!” Bill said. “The more the merrier!”

The next day after his shift, Maisey went with Virgil and Logan to Bill and Jason’s apartment. It was homey and warm and Virgil actually felt at ease there, which was a rare thing.

Jason was very kind and careful when taking measurements, telling Virgil where he would be going next and not touching Virgil without his permission. He and Bill seemed to have picked up on Virgil’s trust issues and were working to accommodate them rather than getting annoyed or being nosy.

It meant more to Virgil than he could say.

That Monday, when Virgil retreated into Beach’s room for lunch, she called him up to her desk, handing him an envelope when he approached.

“This is from that cute boy of yours,” she said teasingly.

Virgil blushed a bit and gave her a small smile. “Thanks,” he said.

He went and sat down next to Logan, staring at the envelope.

Logan rolled his eyes, turning a page in his AP Lit book. “Open it.”

Virgil scowled. “I was going to!” He said defensively.

“Mmmhmm,” Logan hummed.

Virgil tore open the envelope as loudly as he could, trying to make a point, and pulled out the contents. A folded note and two tickets to the winter formal. He opened the note.

_ Thought you’d feel more secure if your BFF could come with you. See you there, dearheart!    <3 -P _

Virgil smirked. “Better buy a tux, Specs.”

Logan looked up. “What?”

He slapped one of the tickets down onto Logan’s desk. “You’re my escort,” he said smugly.

Logan sighed. “I can’t quite say I didn’t expect this.”

Virgil resisted the urge to grin.

The next week was a blur of demands from the Beste’s (the twins making Virgil get everything ready for them to go to the dance), work shifts filled with teasing, homework, and tailoring sessions with Jason.

He was so terrified about that dance that, when the day finally came, he had a full-blown anxiety attack that morning.

It was just the cherry on top when, that evening, Damien decided to be even more of a dick than usual.

“Virgil,” he said calmly as Virgil served the Beste’s their dinner. “It has come to my attention that you are planning to go out tonight, is that correct?”

Virgil almost froze, but forced himself to keep moving. He couldn’t act suspiciously. “Y-yes, sir.”

“And to where will you be going?”

“To--to--Logan and I are--”

Damien hummed, cutting him off. “I hope not to that winter formal?”

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. “No--no, sir.”

Damien hummed again. “I’m afraid I don’t like how much you’ve been out of the house, lately,” he said, and Virgil’s heart sank. “I must ask you to cancel your plans.”

Virgil felt like he was going to choke. “B-but sir--”

Damien turned to glare at Virgil, ice cold eyes rooting him to the spot. “Are you arguing with me, boy?”

Virgil took a step back. “No, sir,” he said. He wanted to cry. All that preparation for nothing. “I’ll cancel them, sir.”

“Good, good,” Damien hummed. “And just to make certain…” He pulled a key from the pocket of his slacks. “Go to your room.”

As Virgil made his way out of the dining room, Damien following close behind, he saw Kameron smirk around her fork. Of course it was her.

“I will be heading out to a fundraiser tonight for my company,” Damien said evenly as they walked down the stairs. “I will return home and unlock your door at one in the morning. You will remain here until then.”

“Yes, sir,” Virgil said.

Once Virgil had fully entered the basement, the door slammed shut behind him. The lock clicked.

Virgil forced his legs to move, walking across the room and behind the dividers, collapsing onto his bed face first. He started to cry.

All of that work for nothing. All of that money for nothing. It was all going to go to waste because Damien was a fucking  _ asshole _ .

He should have known it would turn out this way. Nothing ever turns out right for him. He should’ve just said no in the first place.

He should’ve never texted P.

No, that wasn’t a thought Virgil would allow himself to have. P may have complicated his life and emotions in ways he never planned for, but he wouldn’t give up getting to know him for anything.

Virgil’s phone rang, cutting through his thoughts. It was Logan. He answered numbly.

“Hey, where are you,” Logan asked through the receiver. “Maisey’s getting us soon.”

“Damien locked me in.”

Logan was silent for a moment. “Is he leaving the house?”

“Yes?”

“Just crawl through the window.”

Virgil froze. He was such an  _ idiot _ . Of  _ course _ . How could he forget the window, his escape route for the past fucking  _ decade _ . Typical.

“Oh,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Logan reassured, knowing Virgil’s self-deprecating tendencies. “Just get down here, quick.”

“On my way.” Virgil hung up.

Virgil squeezed through the window as soon as he heard Damien’s car pull out of the driveway. He sneaked through the backyard and hopped over the back fence into the alley. He booked it, racing through the neighborhood to Logan’s house. 

Maisey’s car was already outside, Logan in the backseat. Virgil flung himself into the passenger seat. “Go,” he panted.

“We’re not in that big of a rush,” Maisey said, but started driving anyway.

Logan was already dressed for the masquerade. His hair was slicked back as usual and he wore a simple, natural makeup look under his mask. His suit was navy blue to match his mask, a style similar to Virgil’s but much simpler. It suited him.

Their group quickly arrived at Jason and Bill’s apartment, and everyone rushed to get Virgil ready. He felt like a bride on her wedding day.

Maisey worked on slicking back his hair while Logan did his makeup, simple enough to not distract from the mask, but still dramatic enough to suit Virgil.

Jason and Bill then rushed him into the bathroom to change. The outfit Jason had made was  _ amazing _ . They definitely picked up on his flair for the dramatic.

A shiny, silky purple suit that was very eye-catching, perfectly tailored to fit him to make it that much more flattering. Underneath the jacket he had a shiny silver vest buttoned over a black dress shirt. They had also given him a simple black bow tie.

Paired with the mask, Virgil almost didn’t recognize himself. He looked  _ good _ . He  _ felt _ good.

He carefully slipped his worry stone and the tickets to the dance into his pocket before he emerged from the bathroom. He then surprised everyone by giving both Jason and Bill hugs.

He and Logan were whisked off to the dance, Logan setting an alarm for midnight ahead of time so that they knew when to rush Virgil home. They couldn’t risk getting caught by Damien. Not only was he obeying orders, but he could accidentally out himself at the same time.

Entering the hotel ballroom that the school had rented for the event was one of the most terrifying experiences of Virgil’s life. It was  _ full _ of people, he could barely move around without bumping into someone, and the music was deafeningly loud. It was all modern rap music that  _ really _ wasn’t Virgil’s style, all about sex and drugs and demeaning women.

Wasn’t this supposed to be romantic?

Virgil looked toward the dance floor. Everyone was gyrating and grinding on each other. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I’m over it,” Virgil shouted over the music, “let’s go home.” He turned to leave.

Logan grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “No,” he shouted back, “we’re staying and you’re finally getting a boyfriend and you’re going to stop pining.”

“I’m not pining!” Virgil’s eyes scanned the crowd for P.

P said he would be wearing red and that he would be hard to miss, and that his best friend would be in blue. Virgil had told him that they’d be in purple and navy.

The issue was, how was Virgil meant to find them when there were  _ so many _ people?

As it turned out, he didn’t have to.

Virgil and Logan had been slowly making their way further into the room, eyes scanning as they went. Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped around to face the person and froze in shock.

The man was wearing a velvety red suit jacket. His mask was the most extra thing Virgil had ever seen. It was red, white, and gold, covered in intricate golden swirls. A portion of it raised into what almost seemed like spikes on the left side. Looking closer, inside those spikes, instead of white, there was a sheet music design.

The man was just as extra as Virgil. There was no way it wasn’t P.

“B?” P said hesitantly.

Virgil couldn’t stop himself. He broke into a wide yet shy smile.

That was all the answer P needed, and he pulled Virgil into an embrace. P laughed quietly in his ear and squeezed tightly. Virgil hugged back just as strong.

“Let’s let these two have their moment,” Virgil heard someone say behind him.

He pulled away and turned to see another boy in a cat tie and suspenders leading Logan away toward the drink table. Logan looked lost, but followed anyway.

P took his hand and Virgil turned back to him with a smile.

“Not exactly the romantic meeting I envisioned,” he said with a small laugh, gesturing to the dance floor.

Having the mask on and his hair slicked back felt so  _ freeing _ to Virgil. No one would be able to tell who he was. He could act however he wanted without having to worry about maintaining his reputation to scare people away.

So he gave P as flirtatious a smile he could muster, probably coming off as more nervous than anything. He grabbed P’s other hand and pulled so that they were chest to chest. He thought he saw a blush spread over P’s cheeks under the mask.

Good.

“We could always go explore the gardens,” Virgil suggested.

P frowned a little, but wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist anyway. “We’re not allowed out of the ballroom,” he said.

Virgil smiled again. “No one has to know,” he said. “It’s not like anyone would be missing us.”

P opened his mouth to protest.

“Plus,” Virgil said, not giving him the chance, “it would be like all your stupid, cheesy romance movies.”

“They’re not stupid,” P defended weakly, but Virgil could feel him breaking down. He grinned at Virgil. “You weren’t lying, you  _ are _ a bad influence.”

Virgil walked backwards out of P’s arms, grabbing his hands to make him follow. “C’mon,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go tarnish that squeaky clean reputation of yours.”

They managed to sneak past the teacher chaperones rather easily, making their way out into the gardens and wandering aimlessly.

P definitely lived up to Virgil’s expectations of being a  _ massive _ flirt. Virgil tried to match with him, but his flirting skills left much to be desired.

Luckily for him, P found that endearing.

Eventually, they came across a gazebo decorated with fairy lights and vines. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

Perfect for P.

He grinned, hopping up the steps and reaching out to help Virgil do the same. When they both stood in the center of the gazebo, P bowed. Held out a hand.

“May I have this dance,” he asked.

Virgil bit his lip, suddenly shy again. “There’s no music,” he said hesitantly.

P swept Virgil into his arms. “I can fix that,” he said, and started humming.

“I--I can’t dance.”

P smiled warmly. “You’ll do fine.”

Virgil watched his feet as they spun around to the tune Roman was humming, terrified of tripping. He  _ really _ didn’t know how to do this. Thankfully, P was a good lead.

He tilted Virgil’s chin up with a finger. “Eyes on me,” he said, voice low.

Virgil stared into P’s eyes. His eyes were  _ so green _ . He almost wondered if they were contacts.

After a few more minutes, their dance slowed to stop. P started to lean in. Virgil let his eyes flutter shut…

Only to find himself being wrenched away by someone  _ yanking _ on his jacket.

“We have to go,” the someone said.

Virgil whirled around to tell them off, only to be met with Logan’s panicked face. He held up his phone.

It was after midnight.

P came toward them.

“What’s wrong? Can’t you stay a  _ little _ longer?”

“I--I can’t,” Virgil said, already backing toward the stairs. He tripped on his own feet and would’ve fallen down them had Logan not grabbed his arm. “I really have to go.”

“B--”

“I’m sorry.” Virgil made his way down the stairs and moved to start jogging toward the parking lot where Maisey was surely already waiting.

“Wait!”

Virgil glanced back over his shoulder at P, still walking and ready to run.

P flung off his mask and looked at Virgil desperately.

P was  _ Roman Prince _ .

“Please.”

Virgil turned away and broke into a sprint, tears forming in his eyes. This just got a lot more complicated. “I’m sorry,” he called without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want ideas of how Patton and Logan are dressed, you can check out the masquerade planning doc [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/13gcUVeH0ADADf7agA2TjdQCLXlz3dAuJ4QtD1euO6tc/edit?usp=sharing)!
> 
>  
> 
> Tumblrs:
> 
> Me: [sociallyawkward--fics](sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com)  
> Luna: [podcastsandcoffee](podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS:  
> -anxiety  
> -self-deprecation  
> -homophobia?  
> -abusive family  
> -abusive sibling outing Virgil to whole school  
> -blackmail  
> -let me know if I missed anything/you would like me to add something

Virgil ignored any and all texts from Roman Prince for the next week.

He honestly didn’t know what to do.

“Why does him being Roman change anything?” Maisey had asked him.

“Because it’s  _ Roman Prince _ ,” Virgil said.

At Maisey’s deadpan look, he explained.

“A jock, a popular kid, that would’ve been fine. I could’ve handled that. But this is  _ Roman Prince _ . He’s rich and a dick and--and, it just wouldn’t work! He’s not just a popular kid, he’s  _ the _ popular kid. He’s not just a jock, he’s  _ the _ jock.

“If anything happened between us, I would just be an even bigger target than I already am! They would hate me for taking away their perfect little Prince. They would  _ despise _ me for fucking up his reputation.”

Maisey had frowned at him. “Virgil, you need to stop worrying about everyone else’s opinions and focus more on your own happiness. You  _ like _ Roman--”

“He’s not just Roman!” Virgil had exclaimed. “He’s  _ Roman Prince _ !”

Maisey stared at him. “Why does he have to be?”

Despite their words, Virgil still said nothing.

He knew Roman Prince was looking for him all over the school, practically cornering any tall boys with brown hair. Everyone in the school was wondering if he’d gone crazy.

Great. Virgil had  _ already  _ ruined him.

The fangirls, however, tried desperately to take advantage of the situation. They shot claim after claim at him, saying that they’d gotten their friend or brother or cousin or some other male-presenting person to woo Roman for them, too shy to do it themselves. Even  _ Kameron _ had tried.

None of them succeeded.

It didn’t help that Virgil had lost his worry stone that night at the dance. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when he’d tripped down the stairs. Now he was under all this stress and he’d lost one of his major coping mechanisms.

Maisey and Logan had both offered to buy him a new one, and Virgil had even considered it himself, but it just felt so  _ wrong _ not having that  _ specific _ stone.

It wasn’t until the second week, when Roman Prince’s texts got even more frantic and heartbreaking, that Virgil considered saying something. He hated that he cared so much, but he couldn’t continue to let  _ Roman _ (not Roman Prince, just Roman) go through this. Even if it destroyed everything.

So, he approached Roman one day after school (with a  _ great _ deal of prompting, both verbal and physical, from Logan), his heart beating so hard in his chest he felt that it might just pop out. His hands were shaking.

“Roman,” he called out, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“I--”

Roman furrowed his brow and interrupted him. “Hey, you’re Kameron Beste’s brother, aren’t you?”

Virgil scowled. “I wouldn’t call  _ that _ my sister to save my life.”

Roman frowned at the harsh words and sighed, turning to Patton with an exhausted expression. “She’s just relentless, isn’t she?”

Patton opened his mouth to reply, but Roman turned back to Virgil and started speaking again.

“Look,” he said, “whatever she’s holding over your head, I’m sorry, but tell her that nothing is going to convince me that she sent someone to come to the dance and ‘woo me’ for her.”

“But--”

“Again, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time for this. I’m looking for someone important.”

“Right,” Virgil said harshly, and walked away.

Despite Logan’s questioning, he was silent the rest of the day.

And, despite Logan’s original plan to tell Patton who he was (Virgil, of course, had to talk him into that, after talking him through his gay panic. Virgil wasn’t as shocked as he should’ve been to find that Logan had gotten a crush on the boy), as Logan had spent the whole dance with Patton, he backed out of the idea quickly after Roman’s reaction to Virgil.

Roman  _ Prince _ it was, then. Obviously, he had misjudged both the texts and the other boy’s intentions.

You’d think Roman Prince would’ve realized who he was, given how much he had talked about his bad reputation and how the school hated him, and yet he still blew Virgil off like he was nothing.

**_Roman Prince:_ ** _ Please, just tell me. _

**_Roman Prince:_ ** _ Please _

Virgil was so tempted to ignore these texts, just like the rest, but he was  _ so angry _ . He couldn’t just let it slide, not now.

**_V:_ ** _ i tried _

**_V:_ ** _ you made your opinion on me pretty clear. _

**_Roman Prince:_ ** _ B, what?! You talked to me? _

**_V:_ ** _ yeah _

**_V:_ ** _ if you can call it that _

**_V:_ ** _ you barely let me get a sentence out _

**_Roman Prince:_ ** _ Wait no please! Who are you? I’m sorry! _

**_V:_ ** _ yknow _

**_V:_ ** _ i thought you might’ve actually cared. _

**_V:_ ** _ that’s the only reason i tried _

**_V:_ ** _ i thought maybe THIS was the real you, that’s what you had convinced me _

**_V:_ ** _ but you still blow someone like me off like im nothing when i’m dressed up all fancy _

**_Roman Prince:_ ** _ I won’t stop looking _

**_V:_ ** _ maybe you should _

**_V:_ ** _ it might be better for both of us. _

And just when Virgil assumed his life couldn’t get worse, he woke up that morning to Kameron looming over him, murder in her eyes.

“Well, well, well, Virgie,” she said sweetly. “Looks like we have a little problem.”

“And what might that be,” he snarled, sitting up. 

He froze.

She held his suit jacket from the winter formal in her hands.

“Funny,” she said. “I could’ve sworn the guy that snuck off with Roman Prince at the dance was wearing  _ this exact jacket _ .”

Virgil didn’t speak.

“You know,” she said, “I  _ could _ tell Daddy about this.”

“Or you could keep it to yourself,” he tried.

She pouted. “Aw, but where’s the fun in that, Virgie?”

“Don’t tell him,” he said more forcefully.

“Or what,” Kameron sneered.

Virgil didn’t have an answer.

“Tell you what,” she said, voice sugary sweet once more. “You never speak to Roman again, and I’ll keep it to myself.”

“Deal,” he said easily.

Kameron frowned. “I thought it would be harder than that,” she mused.

Virgil shrugged.

She smiled evilly. “You better do everything I ask, then, if you don’t want this to get out to the  _ whole school _ .”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Virgil growled.

“Oh no, the deal was that I wouldn’t tell  _ Daddy _ . This  _ new _ deal is that I don’t tell the  _ school _ .”

“You’re a bitch.”

“And you’re a sad, lonely little boy who will never amount to anything. Are we done stating the obvious.”

“Get out of my room.”

“ _ Gladly _ .”

If Virgil thought Kameron was unbearable before, it was nothing compared to how she acted after she made that threat. On top of all his normal chores, homework, and shifts at work, he now had to wait on her hand and foot. She even had him doing her homework.

It was a wonder he found time to sleep anymore.

Which, incidentally, ended up getting him in trouble.

It was finally the end of the semester, the last few days of school where all anyone did was complain that they had to be there and talk about what they planned to do over the holidays. That specific day just happened to be Virgil’s birthday.

Because of that, Logan had told him he owed it to himself to get a decent amount of rest. That it would be his gift to himself. Virgil thought that was complete and utter horseshit, but was too tired at the time to bother disagreeing.

He got a full seven hours of sleep.

And ended up not finishing a report Kameron needed for that day.

“You made a big mistake, Virgie,” she said that morning.

Virgil assumed she would simply spread the rumour throughout the school, letting it slowly tear him and Roman apart. He didn’t expect her and the other cheerleaders to expose him in the next day’s pep rally.

“Why do we even have one of these right before the semester ends,” Virgil grumbled, trudging into the gym with Logan at his side.

“Perhaps so that we don’t forget how terrible the place is over the break,” Logan mused as they climbed the section of the bleachers that were reserved for seniors.

It went like every pep rally usually did. There was shitty, too-loud music, student council members speaking into a microphone that barely worked, and teachers yelling at the students to be quiet and respectful.

Then, the cheerleader’s turn came to perform and talk about their work.

After their performance, Kameron took the mic.

“Hello, everyone,” she said, way too cheerily. We are your cheer squad!”

Virgil and Logan rolled their eyes as the rest of the students cheered.

“We are honored to cheer on our wonderful sports teams, here,  _ especially _ our star quarterback, Roman Prince!”

The students’ cheers grew louder.

“And I know we  _ all _ have been cheering him on to help him find his mystery boy, am I right?”

Virgil’s blood ran cold.  _ No _ .

“Well what if I told all of you, we just  _ happen _ to know who that boy is!”

This was going to ruin Roman. This was going to ruin Logan.

Not only would Virgil’s presence in Roman’s life ruin so many chances that came his way, Kameron was about to out Virgil to the  _ entire fucking school _ .

And he thought the bullying was bad  _ before _ . He didn’t want to know what was going to happen now.

Virgil could see Roman Prince standing up from where he sat in the front row of the bleachers.

Maisey made eye contact with Virgil where he sat in the top corner of the bleachers.

“This mystery boy is none other than our very own freak,” Kameron called, “Virgil Bunker!”

The gym fell eerily silent.

Virgil’s hands went numb.

Roman turned back to look at him, eyes wide and apologetic.

Virgil decided to do something very stupid.

He threw off his backpack and left it with Logan before jumping over the side of the bleachers, climbing down them as gracefully as he could. Luckily for him, his corner was right next to a door, which he promptly ran out.

“Wait,” he heard Roman call.

The gym erupted in noise.

“Virgil!” he heard Logan call.

Virgil kept running.

He ran until he couldn’t anymore, collapsing behind the bleachers at the football field, across campus from the gym (it really was a poor design choice on the school’s part, but Virgil was a mess too, so who was he to judge).

He should’ve known that the fucking school quarterback would’ve easily been able to keep pace with him. Easily been able to catch him.

But it wasn’t as if he was thinking clearly.

He just jumped off the  _ fucking top of the bleachers _ .

Roman arrived at the field bleachers only seconds after Virgil collapsed against them, breathing heavily. He could see Logan and Patton running towards them from a distance.

“I’m so sorry,” Roman said.

Virgil stood, fuming.

“You’re  _ sorry _ ?” He hissed. “You’ve been a dick to me for years. You mistreated and bullied me. You  _ claimed _ that wasn’t the real you through our texts, but you still  _ did _ it.  _ And _ when I tried to tell you who I was, you  _ blew me off _ !”

“I’m--”

“And  _ now _ , my step-bitch just outed me to the  _ entire fucking school _ because she’s jealous.”

“Okay, I didn’t cause that.”

“No, but I’m pissed off at you so I’ll find some way to blame it on you.”

“Hey--”

Patton caught up to them, panting heavily. “Stop,” he managed to get out.

Logan wasn’t far behind, carrying both his and Virgil’s backpacks.

Roman was quiet until Patton spoke again.

“Don’t fight,” he said. “Please?”

Virgil scowled. He was angry. He wanted to fight. He needed to blame someone other than himself.

“Just talk it out,” Patton suggested. “Like you guys did when you would text.”

“That’s different--” Virgil tried.

“Why?” Logan interrupted. “Why is it different?”

Virgil glared at him. “What, now you’re on their side?”

“No,” Logan said. “I’m on the side of your happiness. I do not understand why you are not.”

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.

Patton took a backpack from Logan. “Why don’t we give them some privacy to talk it out?” He suggested, walking toward the shade of a tree out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” Roman tried again, and this time Virgil reluctantly let him speak. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you in any way before. I haven’t always been the greatest guy, I know that. Patton’s been helping me work on it. And I’m sorry for blowing you off.”

“Why,” Virgil asked, little inflection in his voice.

“What?”

“Why did you blow me off?”

Roman’s face twisted in discomfort. “Kameron has been… a bit forceful with her feelings about me. I’ve tried to let her down easy, but it never works. In this newest game of hers, she got more than six other guys to pretend they were winning my affections for her. She even got Christian to try and pretend it was him.

“I don’t know why she even bothered with that story in the first place. She and so many other girls. I don’t think they really understand how emotions work. You can’t really win someone’s affections by using someone else.”

Virgil just continued on staring at him. 

Roman sighed. “Plus,” he added, “too many people use me as a social stepping stool. I never know who actually wants to be my friend and who just wants to be in with the rich, popular kid. I… misjudged you because of your appearance and reputation and assumed that’s what you wanted. And I’m sorry.”

Virgil bit his lip. He could understand that. At least Roman recognized what he did wrong and apologized. He wasn’t as angry anymore.

“I’m sorry, too,” Virgil eventually said. “I… let my preconceptions about the persona you put up blind me and push me away. And I was kind of a dick by ignoring you. And then I ran away. And then I yelled at you.”

Roman chuckled a little. “I’ve got to admit, that was quite the sight to see. I didn’t know you could do that.”

Virgil looked down and resisted the urge to laugh as well. “Neither did I,” he said. “But hey, fight or flight, am I right?”

Roman laughed again. He stepped closer.

“So,” Roman said, taking Virgil’s hand. “Can we give this a chance?”

Virgil bit his lip, looked deep into Roman’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Roman smiled.

* * *

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Character Sheets:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I hate this chapter. But, due to certain unfortunate circumstances, I couldn't finish the fic like I wanted to. I thought I would've been able to so I stayed in the challenge, but things got in the way and so I basically cut my fic in half and this crappy chapter is the result.   
> I WILL be writing a sequel, finishing the fic how I wanted to, but that may not come out for a short while (I'll also write a oneshot about Logan's big gay panic that's barely mentioned because that was meant to be a Very Important scene)  
> BUT I refuse to let this chapter ruin how I see this fic. I am proud of it. It was my first time (and Luna's first time) participating in a Big Bang (I still think it's hilarious how she and I got paired together, having been good friends before the challenge even began) and we /finished it/ to the best of our abilities. I'm proud of us. And I'm proud of this fic. It's the longest fic I've EVER written. 
> 
> That all being said, thank you all SO MUCH for reading! We really appreciate your support!! Leave us some nice comments and come follow us on our tumblrs! We love you all!
> 
> Links to the art:  
> [Masquerade](https://podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com/post/176829359880/this-is-a-drawing-of-the-ts-big-bang-that-is-from)  
> [Chap 1 header](https://podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com/post/176829431895/another-piece-for-the-ts-big-bang-this-is-the)  
> [Character Sheets](https://podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com/post/176829435025/alright-a-day-late-but-posted-nonetheless-here-is)
> 
> Our tumblrs:  
> Me: [sociallyawkward--fics](sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com)  
> Luna: [podcastsandcoffee](podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you so much, from both of us!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblrs!
> 
> Me: [sociallyawkward--fics](sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com)  
> Luna: [podcastsandcoffee](podcastsandcoffee.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please let me know if these links don't work!


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